The Legacy
by SEZCPL
Summary: Death is a new beginning.   Casey is struggling to come to terms with the death of her step-brother.  Trust me it's a typical SEZCPL Dasey!
1. Trauma

**AN: Okay, this is a risky enterprise because the beginning is going to be very unpopular. However, I will once again request that you trust me when I say, without giving away the plot, THIS IS A DASEY, even if it doesn't look like it from the word go. It is actually, I think, typical of my stories...**

**Please give it a chance. You won't be disappointed (I hope).**

**Do I sound nervous enough? Good.**

* * *

Chapter 1 – Trauma

"Time of death…10.53pm." The figure in green announced resignedly.

The frantic atmosphere which had perpetuated the room for the past twenty minutes slowed to a respectful crawl as the other green-clothed figures first stopped for a second of respect, and then altered their courses to began the clean up that followed death. A tall, attractive male doctor slapped his hand affectionately on the shoulder of the smaller figure that had made the grim pronouncement.

"We did everything we could, Calam. When they get a bullet there…they don't stand a chance." He meant it sincerely, but he had the type of jovial manner about him that made even the grimmest of statements sound like he had made them in jest.

The smaller female figure, still frozen in its pose, understanding that he had meant it with sincerity, nodded. "I know. Believe me, I know."

Her male co-worker straightened. "You want me to inform the next-of-kin?"

She shook her head on her way to the door. "No. I got it." The attractive brunette in her late twenties had been the lead doctor on this case. She wasn't accustomed to letting someone else take on her responsibilities – even if, like this one, the case opened up barely healed wounds. She paused, aware that he might take offence at her refusal.

"Thanks Steven. I appreciated your help tonight."

Steven shrugged. "You'd do the same for me, Case. I know that. Besides, it's what we're here for."

Casey McDonald nodded again and turned back to the door. She frowned and paused again. "Oh…and less of the Calamity Jane references. That was _one_ incident in Med school. Just because you bailed me out then doesn't mean you get to rail me about it everyday for the rest of our careers."

"Aw…What's Wild Bill Hickok without his Calam?" Steven joked.

"A cowboy, Steven. Just a cowboy." Casey replied rolling her eyes and thumping her way out of the room. His joke had jarred against Casey's current emotional state even though as a doctor in the middle of a shift she shouldn't have an "emotional state". Steven had never been particularly sensitive to other people's moods.

If he had, he would have insisted that he take the informing next-of-kin duty.

A while later, Casey left the small bereavement room biting her bottom lip and with her fingernails digging into her palms to hold her emotions in check. She should have returned to the nurses station to see if there was anything new come in but instead, Casey walked determinedly to the room set aside for the staff to take their oh-so-rare breaks. To anyone looking on, she would have been the picture of calm.

It wasn't until she had reached the safety of the sparsely-decorated enclosure and the door had closed behind her that she ran. She sprinted to the female washroom, straight to a cubicle and immediately vomited into the pan, sweat pouring down her face.

She vomited twice more and then stood up, the tears flowing freely and her breath coming in chokes. Casey slammed the cubicle door shut behind her, locking it, and slid down the wall of the partition, her head sinking into her lap.

There she remained for some time, aware that she should be back out on the floor doing her job, but also aware that if they needed her she would be paged.

Eventually, Casey climbed to her feet, flushed the toilet and unbolted the door. At the sink she washed her face and hands thoroughly and glanced at her pale, washed-out reflection in the poorly lit mirror.

"You stupid fool!" She admonished herself. "This is _why_ you became a doctor. If you wanted the flowers and chocolates you should have gone into ob/gyn not trauma. You knew before you started that you'd be dealing with GSWs!" She hissed. "You knew you would be dealing with young males. Hell! You knew you would be dealing with GSWs in young males. It's why you chose this life – you chose it to make a difference. So get a fucking grip! You can't vomit and cry every time something reminds you of _him_."

But as her voice broke on the word _him, _the reality was she knew that she always would.

* * *

"Hi Case!" Ralph greeted her as she walked into his bar later that night. He sounded enthusiastic, but really he didn't want to see her here.

Ralph liked Casey, loved her even - in a completely non-romantic way, but though he would love to spend time with her he would rather it was anywhere but here in his bar.

The trouble was she was _here_ rather too much: too much for his own peace of mind, and too much for her own health.

_Shit! These doctors were the worst at looking after themselves._

"What can I get you?" He half-mumbled, as if hoping for her to have suddenly morphed into someone different in the last three days since he had last seen her and that she would ask for something non-alcoholic.

"Usual." Casey said, reaching into her purse for some cash. "In fact, make it a double."

Ralph, on his way to the rack at the back of the bar which contained the Jack Daniels, paused.

"Are you sure, Case?" he asked, his voice serious. Casey normally started slower than this. He was hoping for longer to gauge her mood, although asking for doubles from the outset didn't look good.

Casey glared at him and sighing, he pushed the bar up on the JD bottle and her glass filled with a double measure.

Ralph didn't refuse to serve Casey…he never did, because to do so would mean she would move on to another bar. At least if she drank here, when she got beyond capable she was amongst friends.

What he did do, when she wasn't looking, was phone Sam.

"Hey Dude. Sorry to bother you so late."

In his bedroom, Sam glanced at the clock. "S'ok. But you do realise it's after 11 don't you? Not all of us run late-opening bars. Some of us have to be up at 6am." Sam's voice was characteristically calm. He knew Ralph of old and although he would always be a little "Ralph-ish" at times, Sam knew his friend had matured into someone slightly less of a loose cannon than he used to be. (slightly less – there was still the matter of Sam's bachelor party).

Ralph would only phone this late for something important. Sam had a sick feeling he knew what it was.

"Yeah. Sorry. It's Casey."

Sam swore softly as Ralph confirmed his worse fears. He sat up in bed. "Again?"

"Yeah. Normally, I wouldn't bother you unless I didn't think she was capable of getting home, but she's only just arrived and she's started on the doubles already."

Sam sighed. "Okay. I'm on my way. Just keep an eye on her till I get there." He hung up and switched on the light. Beside him in bed, his very pregnant wife blinked.

"What is it?"

"Casey." Sam said, his tone speaking volumes. "Will you be okay if…?"

"Just go, Sam. Your sister's across the street if I need someone. You can't leave Casey in a bar, even if it is Ralph's. How drunk is she?"  
Her husband was already on his way out of bed. "She isn't, not yet. But Ralph's worried about the rate she's drinking at."

Ruth shook her head in disbelief. She was fond of Casey and didn't like to see her friend this way. "Will you phone Nora?" She asked, watching as Sam dressed.

Sam's reply was in the negative. "Casey doesn't want Nora know about _this_. She thinks she doesn't have a right to grieve and that she shouldn't be grieving more than the rest of the family…or me."

"The rest of the family grieve, they just don't show it."

"I know. Casey's problem is that initially she dealt with her grief by taking up a career that might have made a difference to…the outcome."

"That was a healthy way to deal with her feelings, wasn't it? I mean she was already training to be a doctor. Lots of people use personal experience to determine their specialty."

Sam, now fully clothed, shook his head. "It didn't help - not when she has to deal with people brought in the same way Derek was on an almost weekly basis. She thought she could help and that she would become desensitised in the process. But instead, she finds herself reminded regularly that she lost her step-brother in violent circumstances."

"But drinking? Surely that affects her work?"  
Sam shrugged. "Most of the time it isn't too bad. She only drinks if she doesn't have a shift the next day and she can normally get herself home. That's the good days. The bad ones…Ralph has his work cut out."

"It's been seven years, Sam. She can't go on like this."

"I know. I've told her that. Fortunately the drinking has only been recent. I think to start off with she used her studying to absorb her. Now there's nothing else there. She won't tell her family, and only Emily, Ralph and Us still stay in touch with her." He grabbed his keys from the cabinet in the corner of their room. "I'll see you when I can. I'll get her home and settled. Look after bump. Bump, look after Mommy." He bent to kiss her swollen tummy and then her own mouth. "I love you."

"I love you too." Ruth smiled. "Give Casey my love. Tell her to get her ass over here and help me plan for this baby."

Sam left the room, thanking every deity he could think of that the woman he had just left had said "yes" two years ago. Not every woman would understand his need to go and rescue his former girlfriend in the middle of the night – while his own wife was pregnant.

But Ruth did.

She also understood on the one day a year when her husband broke down and sobbed like a baby. She said nothing, but rubbed his back and giving him space to grieve in his own way for his best friend on his best friend's birthday.

* * *

"Tell me Ralph." Casey slurred slightly louder than was comfortable. "Do you still have those pleather pants?"

Ralph coughed in embarrassment, but only a small part of it was about the aforementioned hosiery. He hated seeing Casey like this.

"Of course not. They ended up getting torched shortly after graduation."

Casey blinked blood-shot eyes. "Really? Why d'ya do that?"

"I didn't." Ralph said without thinking. "Derek did."

Casey's hand stopped halfway to her mouth, a new double shot of JD in its grasp. After the pause, in a flash of movement, the hand continued its journey, shooting the fire liquid into her mouth and down her throat in one go. Casey gasped.

"Sorry." Ralph said. "I shouldn't have mentioned him."  
"Don't be Ralphie. People should talk about Derek more. He'd be turning in his grave if he thought he wasn't the centre of attention." Casey said with a sad echo of the old antagonism that she used to share with her late step-brother.

"He'd be turning in his grave if he could see you right now." Sam said approaching Casey from behind.

"Sammy!" Casey exclaimed. "What are you doing here? Come and sit next to me. Ralph! Get Sam a drink."

Sam shook his head at Ralph then he mouthed "How many?"

In reply, Ralph held up four fingers and mouthed the word "Doubles". Sam swore softly and then deftly removed the glass from Casey's fingers.

"Come on Casey, let's get you home." He insisted, grabbing her elbow.

"OOoo! Are you kidnapping me?" Casey squealed with delight. "Should I scream for help?"

"Only if it makes you feel better." Sam replied wryly, wondering what the hell Derek would have made of _this_ Casey.

By a process of manipulation and cajoling, they got Casey out of the door and into Sam's car. He strapped her in and watched her wriggling to make herself comfortable and he knew that she would be asleep before they reached her house less than ten minutes away.

He was right and getting a sleepy Casey out of his car was harder than getting her out of the bar – which was saying something. But he managed it at last, fishing the keys to her apartment from her purse and letting them in through the front door.

For a moment, Sam stopped and stared, almost ignoring the weight against his shoulder. The apartment was a mess. There were dirty clothes strewn around the main living room, dirty cups stacked on the side in the kitchen and an overall air of neglect.

This was not what he had been expecting. On the other few occasions where he had previously been obliged to bring Casey home, her apartment had been clean and tidy – almost clinically so. He glanced at the girl clinging to him.

"Oh Casey!" He closed his eyes against the sight. "Why?"  
She giggled. "Why what?"  
"Why are you letting yourself go like this?"

"Like what?" She said, but her voice was sleepy and he knew it was pointless.

"Come on." He said, adjusting her weight again. "Let's get you to bed."

"Sammy, you're a married woman. You can't do this."

He snorted. "Casey McDonald, you seriously need to get your eyes tested."

"My eyesight is 20/20." She objected.

"And yet, I'm a man."

"Sam? Have you been drinking? You need to stop. It's not good for Bump. I've got some leaflets on heavy drinking somewhere. I'll look them out for you."

By this stage, Sam had managed to get Casey into her bedroom. He helped her onto the bed and tucked her in. He left the room to find painkillers and water, and then placed them on the table next to the bed. As an after-thought he put her bin next to the bed.

"Casey? I'm going now…okay? I'll call you in the morning. Ruth sends her love. She wants you to go and see her to talk about the baby. We'll make arrangements tomorrow. Don't do anything silly, hun. Okay?"

"M'okay." Casey murmured into her pillow and started snoring almost immediately.

Sam straightened from the bed and looked around. The bedroom was in the same degree of chaos as the rest of the apartment apart from one corner. There a small table was situated, its surface covered with a collection of photographs. Unlike everywhere else, this table and its contents were well dusted.

None of the photographs was less than seven years old, but they all had Derek in them: sometimes with the whole family, sometimes with friends, sometimes just alone. His best friend even saw himself in one of the pictures and it caused a lump to rise and embed itself in his throat.

"Oh Casey!" Sam whispered. "We all thought you cared the least. I guess you cared the most."


	2. Props

Casey woke the next morning with only a slight hangover but she felt awful. It wasn't the hammering in her brain that turned her stomach, but the realisation that yet again people she called friends had been forced to protect her from herself…and she felt disgusted.

As soon as the clock said it was a decent hour, she phoned Sam…and got Ruth.

"Ruth…I'm so sorry about last night. I wasn't thinking and…"

"Casey. It's fine. I understand."  
"But I pulled your husband away from you when you need him most. And I…"  
Ruth sat down on the couch in her own living room. "Casey? You really want to apologise to me?"  
"Yes."

"Okay, come for lunch."

* * *

Casey McDonald had dated Sam in the first year after her relocation to London. He had been the decent guy with the unfortunate friend who just so happened to be Casey's own new step-brother. Casey had liked him a lot when they dated, although in hindsight it would never have worked. Sam was too laid back and Casey was just…intense. But they had managed to break up reasonably amicably and eventually morphed the attraction into a decent enough friendship that lasted through college. Derek had even been forced to take Casey with him when Sam threw a monster party at his own college, making it clear that he expected _both_ of them to attend.

In the horror that followed Derek's death, Sam was invaluable. It had been Sam who comforted Casey in the hospital when the doctor had made his pronouncement. It had been Sam who didn't express surprise when Casey broke down. It had been Sam who supported Casey ever since.

Casey had appreciated his support, but it had made her slightly uneasy, wondering if he still harboured feelings for her…feelings she couldn't return. It had been a relief when Sam met Ruth and eventually married her. Ruth had become another of Casey's close friends.

Casey was looking forward to the birth of Sam's first child almost as much as the happy parents. She was more than happy to answer the myriad of medical questions the parents to be had, and when Ruth occasionally felt under the weather, Casey wasn't above breaking the odd rule to pop over to their home and give her friends the professional reassurance they needed.

She showered and dressed after hanging up with Ruth, choosing a fitted blouse and Capri pants because the weather seemed decent today. On the short journey to Sam's home, she picked up some cut flowers and a fruit basket, eager to promote the healthy eating message, but also knowing that Ruth really loved pears and there were three absolute beauties in the midst of the selection.

As she drove, Casey wondered what Derek would have made of Sam's impending fatherhood. She thought he would have teased Sam but only in the soft, almost loving way that a good friend does when something pleasantly life-changing is about to happen. Somehow, knowing how Derek was with Marti and Robbie, she believed he would have been a good "uncle" to the new arrival…and the thought that he wouldn't be given the opportunity was yet another lead weight on her chest.

Casey often thought of Derek. She had learnt a long time ago that blocking him out of her life wasn't possible. But that had been when she was fifteen!

With his death, she had also learnt that blocking him out of her thoughts was counter-productive too. Even in the after-life, he had a way of sliding into her mind, metaphorically yanking her chain and running for the hills.

She missed him every minute of every day.

There hadn't been a dramatic change in their relationship at college. They were still as argumentative as ever. They hadn't got closer, not really…except…well maybe there had been a few more fluffy moments where he hadn't riled her as expected, and where they had shared a coffee or maybe four – unexpectedly. But really, they were the same two people stuck in a relationship with each other neither of them wanted.

And then, two days before he died, Derek and Casey had both attended the same party. Somehow, even in the larger community of the college they both managed to end up with mutual friends. And shortly before the cataclysmic event, one of the mutual friends invited them both to a party. They had both made the effort, which was really something because Casey had a final to sit at the end of the week. But the mutual friend was dating one of Casey's best friends and not attending wasn't an option.

Cut a long story short, Derek and Casey found themselves sitting in a quiet corner, in the early hours of the morning, just talking. It was a strange evening with strange conversation - or rather the conversation itself wasn't strange, it was perfectly normal. The idea of this particular conversation happening between this couple, however, was…concerning.

Casey had never been able to remember what they said to each other that night, but she did remember that when she shivered from the cool evening air he had placed an arm around her and pulled her close – and she had relaxed against him without complaint.

There had been no further conversation for a while until Derek kissed the top of her head and murmured.

"I'm sorry Casey. I've been a complete shit towards you." And then he had released her before the shock had passed and moved back into the main room in search of his friends. Later, he walked her home without asking permission, his arm slung around her shoulder and the air heavy with the silence between them. At Casey's door, she had turned to him and pressed a kiss on his cheek.

"I was a bit of a bitch too." She said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Derek had blinked in surprise because this sort of stuff just never normally happened. If one of them weakened and said something…nice, the other could normally be relied on to get them back on track. He had weakened…and so had Casey. He should now be the one to retaliate, to say something…normal.

But he didn't. Two days before he died, Derek had pulled Casey to him and hugged her.

And after a moment, Casey had hugged him back.

The evening had ended shortly after that with Derek gently releasing her, but catching her fingers before they separated completely. He had kissed her fingertips and murmured "Life Sucks that you are my step-sister."

And for the first time ever, Casey knew those words meant that he was paying her a compliment.

* * *

Casey pulled up outside Sam and Ruth's comfortable little house on the edge of London and as she parked, she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. She tried very hard not to cry during daylight hours. The old Gerry and the Pacemaker's song "Don't let the sun catch you crying" had become something of an anthem to her since Derek's death. At least at home and at night there was no one to see the ravages of grief on her face. During the day, red bloodshot eyes were an invitation for people to push at the edges of Casey's sadness and she really didn't want that. This was something she couldn't share with anyone.

She exited her car, lifting her gifts from the passenger seat, and paused to set the car's alarm. When Casey turned around, Ruth was waiting for her on the top step of the house.

"Casey!" She grinned. "It's lovely to see you."  
Casey cocked an eyebrow. "Do you really mean that or are you just trying to make me feel better?"  
Ruth shushed her and curved an arm around her shoulders.

"Seriously, Casey. I'm pleased to see you. I've been worried about you."  
Casey rolled her eyes. "Why? You know what's up with me. It's not like there's much anyone can do about it."

They had reached the kitchen by now and Ruth took Casey's gifts from her hands and placed them on the counter.

"You can't keep on like this Casey. It's not healthy. Derek wouldn't want you throwing your life away over him."

Casey snorted. "I can tell you never met him. That's exactly what he'd want."

Ruth chuckled. "Sam said you'd say that."

"Well it's true. We were each never happy unless we were making the other one miserable. This would be his ultimate wet dream."

Sam's wife sighed. "Last night wasn't good, Casey."

"I know. It won't happen again."

"Meaning you won't resort to alcohol to forget your grief, or you'll make sure that you do it in a different bar?"

Casey bit her lip. "I'm not an alcoholic, Ruth. Most of the week I don't drink at all."

"Most of the week you're running yourself ragged at the hospital and don't have time to drink. Alcohol or over-work…it's all the same thing."

Ruth made them both a cold drink and led her out to the deck at the back of the house, both of them carrying the plates of food Ruth had prepared for their lunch. They perched on wicker chairs and started to eat. Casey knew that Ruth had invited her here today to get Casey to face her grief. She didn't like what Sam's wife planned, but part of her reminded Casey that she owed Sam and Ruth a lot. The least she could do was listen to an ear-bending.

"Sam says you grieve so much because you feel guilty about how you treated Derek." Ruth started. "But I know you Casey. It's more than that."

Casey didn't answer for a while. She ate thoughtfully, chewing every mouthful carefully.

"We were forced into our step-sibling relationship." She said after a while. "We weren't given any choice. It was a fait accompli before we even knew about it. So we had to just live with it and deal. But Derek and I were stubborn people, and …passionate. If either of us had been less passionate it wouldn't have been a problem. But we were. And the biggest kicker of all was we were exactly each other's types. If we had met without the relationship he'd have chased after me…and I would have acquiesced. Before me, Derek dated all types of girls including brunettes. After me, it was largely blondes. We were a taboo."

"But nothing ever happened?"

"No. Nothing ever happened." Casey said half-truthfully, sipping at her drink. "He died status quo."

She put down her glass and the plate. "It's not easy to be the surviving partner in a relationship. In a strong married couple the survivor often dies shortly afterwards." She smiled wryly. "Don't laugh, but for a while I thought I would die too."

"You were in love with him?" Ruth didn't sound surprised. Casey shook her head.

"I don't know about that. But there was a lot of emotion between us; emotion that I couldn't ignore. Even now I still have conversations with him. I berate him for putting me through this, for driving me to drink."  
Ruth grinned and Casey joined in. "You'd have loved him, Ruth. He was a great character and he thought the world of Sam. He'd have teased Sam relentlessly about settling down and even more so about the baby. But he'd have been the first one to raise a glass at your wedding and the first one round to cuddle the baby."

"He liked kids?"  
Casey nodded. "He loved being part of a big family. Derek loved kids."

Ruth was thoughtful. "You know, when I think of you, I don't think of you as his sister. I treat you as his widow."

Casey's eyes widened. "Now _that_ would have had him turning in his grave!"

* * *

They talked for most of the afternoon, and it wasn't long before they moved on from the subject of Derek. Casey asked about Ruth's pregnancy and she confided that she was feeling the tiredness more, and just lately her bump was feeling tight and constricting.

"How long do you have to go?" Casey asked, trying to keep the professional from her tone.

"Three weeks. I'm ready now. I've had enough."

Casey grinned. "Your bump is lower. Has the midwife told you the baby has engaged?"

"She said she thought it was a possibility when I saw her last." Ruth winced as her bump tightened and the baby kicked her. "Casey. Enough about the baby. You need to make an effort to get out more. You know I have some great single friends if you are interested."

Her friend chuckled. "Absolutely not! Mr Right will come along without your interference madam. Now tell me more about these…tightenings."

Ruth waved a dismissive hand. "They're normal. I've been having them for a week now." Ruth tried to change the subject. "How about a fellow doctor? I know a guy in Calgary…"

"A week? When did you midwife last examine you?"  
"Last Thursday. She said it was probably nothing, just Braxton-Hicks." Ruth tried again. "I can give him a call."

Casey ignored her. "When did you last feel a tightening?"

Ruth shrugged. "Just now and before that about twenty minutes ago. But it's nothing, Casey. I always get them in the afternoon…oooh!"

Casey sat forward. "Another one?"

Ruth nodded. Casey looked at her watch.

"Humour me. Let's time them."

The two women sat on the deck discussing Casey's lack of a love life while the latter timed the contractions. After half an hour, Casey interrupted Ruth's impassioned plea that her friend join an on-line dating site.

"Ruth. I think we should phone Sam."

"Why? He'll tell you the same. You need to get out more."  
"Yes honey. But he'll also tell you that you need to get to the hospital. The contractions are regular and getting closer together."

Ruth started to say something in protest but a sudden spasm gripped her and she doubled over. Casey started to count aloud. Afterwards, she slipped off her seat and knelt beside her friend.

"Come on. Let's get you to your bedroom, honey. I think I need to examine you."

Five minutes later, Casey phoned Sam at work and his sister across the road.

"I think you should come home, Sam." Casey informed him. "She's eight centimetres dilated."

"What about the hospital?" The worried father –to-be asked. Casey laughed.

"Sam. She won't make it to hospital. I've spoken to her mid-wife and I'm going to deliver the baby here."

* * *

Three hours later, an exhausted Casey handed the screeching bundle to the doting father.

" Go to Daddy. I know he's desperate to meet you."

Sam gasped as the tiny child was placed in his arms. "Hello Amelia Casey. Welcome to the world."

Casey gasped and her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't deserve that." She told Sam. "Last night…"

Sam shook his head and leant to kiss his new daughter's head.

"Last night was understandable. Hell, sometimes when I think about Derek too much myself I want to do the same thing. This afternoon you brought my daughter into the world. Naming my child after you is the least I can do."

* * *

**AN: People do strange things before they die. My grandfather visited my mom four days before he died unexpectedly and returned his copy of her wedding album to her saying he no longer needed it. He also saw me for the first time in months on the same day, and the previous day he saw his son who had also been away. Four days later he dropped down dead. My family has a history of doing "weird" things before they die.**

**Derek sort of made his peace with Casey before his death.**

**And now...**

**Casey's anthem for the first part of this fic is "Don't Let the Sun Catch you crying." by Gerry and the Pacemakers.**

**Derek's anthem for the first part of this fic is "Starlight" by Muse. (Read the lyrics)**


	3. Moving On

It's amazing how the birth of a baby suddenly saps time and energy, even if you aren't the parent. As well as giving baby Amelia her name, Casey found that Sam and Ruth also planned to make her the baby's godmother. Casey wasn't sure if they meant it to give Casey a good kick up the backside but in a strange way it did. She found herself terrified that her friends might call her in the night needing medical assistance for the little bundle of joy and was so worried that she would be drunk and incapable that the desire to drown her sorrows disappeared.

But whilst the drink might be gone, Casey was still far from cured. She worked more and more hours, and slept less and less, but it wasn't through choice. Every night she would go to bed as normal only to be forced to get up again a short while later because sleep wouldn't come.

Sleep only came to Casey as a last resort when she was so exhausted she could barely stand. It was a miracle that she still functioned at work.

The weeks passed and Amelia grew and Casey was a constant in her life. Although she had been a doctor for years, Casey knew that most of her paediatric knowledge was theoretical rather than practical. The years where Robbie was growing up Casey and Derek had been at college. So it was nice to be there and do something more hands on this time. She became adept at post-feed winding, knew how to sterilise a breast pump (Sam refused) and changed more than a few dirty diapers. At least once a week, Casey babysat for her namesake while the young parents took a well-earned rest. It was the one time when Casey felt even vaguely happy.

Once a month, Casey still made the journey to Toronto to see the rest of the McDonald-Venturis in their home. After Derek's death, their parents had found it difficult to remain in London and at Nora's suggestion, the family moved to the area where Casey had grown up. The move suited the rest of the family. Immediately after the move happened all those years ago, Robbie stopped crying every time he was taken out in the car, Marti stopped trying to run away to the bank where Derek had been shot and Edwin and Lizzie no longer had to listen to their friends talk about the death of their brother.

Only Casey had stayed in London. She couldn't tell you why, just that it was necessary for her, and that she needed to be there. She still had an account at _the_ bank, still drove the familiar streets and there honestly wasn't a place that she avoided.

She did avoid the people, however. There were just three people from school that she had spoken to since Derek's death: Sam, Ralph and Emily, although the latter didn't understand how Casey felt. A couple of years into the grieving, there had been a sharply-worded conversation where Emily told Casey she was a hypocrite. Casey didn't correct her friend because she could see where Emily was coming from, but Casey's relationship with her had suffered, and now they merely exchanged Christmas cards – too weary of loss to break the connection completely.

* * *

"How's the hospital?" George asked over the dinner table in Toronto during one visit. It was a week before Derek's anniversary – the closest (time-wise) that Casey could bear to visit their family.

Casey shrugged. "It's fine. Manic most of the time."

"Any cute doctors?" Lizzie asked, trying to keep the mood light. She knew what was coming. It might take several moments of banal small talk but it was always the same. Nora and George would tell Casey that they expected her to join them at Derek's memorial garden next week, and Casey would refuse.

It was ironic. The rest of the family avoided London all year round except for the annual pilgrimage to the crematorium. Casey, who lived with the visual reminders of Derek everyday, refused to remember him on the anniversary of his death.

For the first few years, this had caused bad feeling amongst the family. They felt she didn't care enough, and had moved on with her life. They were completely ignorant of Casey's grief…until Nora visited Casey unexpectedly one time and found her sobbing over Derek's photo.

They still didn't know the full extent of her pain, nor did they understand it. But, now at least they appreciated it existed.

Lizzie groaned as she saw her mother put down her knife and fork with a purpose. So did Casey.

"No mom." She said, anticipating the words before they left her mother's lips. "I'm spending next week on-call as usual."

"Casey…"

"I'll remember him, Mom. Just in my own way, okay. I'll do more good being in the ER than in a Garden of Remembrance. Roses just don't remind me of Derek."

Old Casey would have said poison ivy was more his thing.

Nora sighed. "It would be nice to commemorate it as a family."

"We will be. I just don't want to be there."

"Don't you _care_?" Her mother asked in frustration.

Casey looked taken aback. She sighed. "I care. But while I'm at the Garden of Remembrance someone else's son or daughter could be brought in with a gun shot wound or a major trauma. What good will I do if I'm looking at a rose bush? Derek wouldn't want me there anyway. He was always happier when the family plans excluded me."

Marti shook her head. "That's not true Smasey. Derek cared about you too."  
Half the table snorted…but Casey wasn't one of them.

* * *

So when the day arrived, Casey was on a double shift. Her aim was to spend as few of the daylight hours of Derek's anniversary thinking as possible.

Instead, she dealt with broken arms, babies with meningitis (two from the same day-care facility), coughs, colds and a man with a broken _penis_. The latter case provided the only light relief in an otherwise horrific day.

Casey didn't laugh at the patient because he was quietly freaking out. Instead, she had commended him on having the guts to come in for treatment.

"I've paged one of my surgeon colleagues who's a specialist on micro-surgery." She told him very quietly. "Because you came straight here and didn't waste time getting embarrassed it's a cure-able condition. If you'd delayed even by a few hours then you might have caused yourself serious damage. Next time you might want to tell your girlfriend not to be quite so rough."

The guy nodded mournfully and Casey noted that the "girlfriend" was nowhere to be seen.

Her colleagues were less kind when she reached the nurses station.

"Is it true, Casey?" One of the more obnoxious of the junior doctors asked. "You got a "broken penis"? Jeez! I thought those cases were urban myths."

"No. Nigel. They're real. And if you don't keep your voice down and your manner professional, Mr Stoneham's appendage won't be the only broken dick around here."

Finally after one of the longest shifts Casey had ever worked, she let herself into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. It was a psychological barrier as well as an apartment door. It shut out the world and like an air-lock allowed her to let emotions rush in. But, sensing that the moment she let go she would achieve nothing, Casey moved to the kitchen with the Tex-Mex take out she had bought on her way home. She plated up food that she knew she wouldn't eat, and for once allowed herself the luxury of a glass of wine.

And then, seated in her living room, trying to behave as though this was just any day, she let the tidal wave consume her, and the sobs convulse her body.

* * *

There is only so long you can cry even on the anniversary, but it was long enough that the food was less than tepid when she pulled herself together enough to be aware of her surroundings. There was her half-drunk glass of wine, the plate of food that might still be edible even though it was cold, and the flashing light of her answering machine.

Four messages: Ralph just checking that she wasn't in another bar getting hammered, Sam wondering if she was okay with a burping Amelia on his shoulder, Emily – surprisingly – wondering if Casey wanted to go out for a drink some time…

And predictably, Marti.

Marti was the only one of her family who she had ever known to ring her on Derek's anniversary.

"Hi Casey, it's Smarti. Just wanted to say that it went okay today. Same as it always is. Every one got upset and no-one wanted to admit it. Edwin kept making silly Edwin-comments, you know as though he was expecting Derek to suddenly appear and smack him in the back of the head. Parts of it were painful, so I think you were better off out of it. I hope your shifts went okay. You were right, you do more good saving other people's…

ahem Erm…I'm thinking about coming over to London in a couple of weeks. Can I stay with you? Anyway, give me a call. Love you."

Casey stared at the machine. That was weird. Marti, to Casey's knowledge, hadn't been to London in six years. Why was she coming to London now?

* * *

Over the seven years since Derek's death, Casey had acquired a few routines to help her cope. Some of them she carried out everyday. Some of them were specific to the actual anniversary day. Checking Derek's Facebook page was one of the latter.

Facebook was no longer the go-to social website that it had been while Casey was at college. Newer better things had come along. But it was still up and running, used now by people who were too old to change or because to them Facebook had a cult status. Casey still logged on now and then to keep her account active for the one time in the year when she needed access to the site.

Today.

Nearly ten years previously, Derek had created his own Facebook page. He was one of the first to do so at school and by the time he graduated from SJST he had more than a thousand "friends", predictably most of them female.

After his death, Casey forgot about his account, until the first anniversary when she, for want of something better to do, was checking her own account – and realised his was still active. Bitter with grief, she couldn't help leaving him a comment on his wall.

"You bastard!"

No explanation, because she didn't have one.

Unsurprisingly, she got no response.

Every year since, she had logged onto Facebook to check if his account was still there.

Every year it was.

Every year, she left a comment.

For the first few years it was something almost vitriolic: sharp and cutting, calling him out on his failings as a step-brother, deriding him for abandoning Robbie, Marti and Edwin.

But then after several years, she started to talk to his profile and her messages became softer. When she realised this, she stopped posting to his wall, and started PMing his account instead.

Last year, she had written: "We should have said sorry so much sooner. Things would have been so different."

This year, she simply wrote "I miss you so much."

Casey was surprised that Derek's account was still there. No one could have logged into it for seven years and from what Casey knew, there was a time-limit on dormant accounts. But it was still there, and though, if she wanted to she could probably get the administrators to removed the account, she didn't. There was a small degree of comfort to be gained from flicking through the photographs he had posted and to read back over the old messages which had passed between them.

* * *

It was late, almost midnight. Casey was picking at cold, loaded potato skins and the seasoned chicken and peppers of her cold fajitas. She was on to her third glass of wine, but she knew it was her last. Since she had been home she had been skimming through Derek's account, avoiding the seven year old weepy messages from his "fan club" but noticing that only a handful of people had updated anything since the first anniversary and that only she had updated in the past five years.

She broke with tradition and typed something on Derek's wall.

"**Where are your legions of fans now?"**

Then she went back to looking at pictures of Derek at parties, normally with his arm slung around a girl.

At the edge of her vision something flicked and she glanced up to the main menu bar to see the characteristic red "flag" of a notification. She clicked on it.

**Mikey Essen **commented on **Derek Venturi's **Wall.

Casey frowned. Evidently, someone else was aware of it being Derek's anniversary. Casey clicked on the link to take her to Derek's wall and the new comment.

"**It's been seven years. What did you expect? Loyalty to a ghost?" **

It was a reply to her own recent comment. She snorted.

"From the women…no. They were fickle while he was alive, why would that change now he's dead? I meant the guys."

"**Huh! Spoken like a true female! Guys don't get sentimental over other guys."**

"Some do."

"**Name one."**

Casey leaned back to think. Who had shown emotion over Derek? Well his dad and Edwin of course, but they didn't count. Sam? Casey was sure Sam was deeply upset but she had never seen any evidence of it. Ralph? He had been sick at the funeral.

"Ralph threw up at the wake."  
**"Eh? He ate some of his grandmother's egg and cress sandwiches, he only had himself to blame. Face it. The only person who even bothers to look at this profile is you."**

"And you."

"**Morbid curiosity. What's your excuse?"**

"I'm family."

"**Yeah right. Derek would be turning in his grave over that statement."**

"It's the truth. I was his sister."  
**"STEP-sister."**

"Same diff – who the _hell_ are you?"  
**"A friend of Derek's."**

"How come I never met you?"  
**"You did…once. It was at a party at Queen's. You were trashed."**

"I was not! I didn't drink while I was…oh god! You mean _that_ night!"

The first party which Casey attended, Derek had forced her to go to. It was in their freshman year at college and he pushed her to go because Nora wanted him to make sure that Casey was socialising and not just studying. She had gone under protest. And in typical Casey fashion, because it was under protest she had made a point of ignoring everything that Derek had said…including the "Don't touch the baked goods in the kitchen."

Casey, inexperienced in the ways of college – and frankly in the ways of anything party-related – didn't see why she shouldn't try the delicious – if slightly unusual-smelling brownies. She ate three.

Derek came in from the garden area when the cheering started. To say that he was surprised to see Casey standing on the pool table removing her clothes to the sound of Mr Loverman was a massive understatement. By the time he arrived she was wearing nothing but her bra and panties.

"**Yeah. **_**That**_** night."** Mikey Essen commented on Facebook nine years later.

"Hmmm….Well it's no wonder I don't remember you."

"_**Hash **_**brownies…how many did you eat anyway?"**

"I don't remember. I don't remember much of that night. Just Derek telling me the morning after that if my mom wanted me to socialise more she should move to Kingston and chaperone me herself. Oh, and the headache the next day."

She could almost hear Mikey laughing – wherever he was.

"**Only you…You know I think I like that one better than the Klutzilla incident."**

"He told you about THAT?"

"**What can I say? Derek was a good story teller and you were an unlimited source of new material."**

"He told you other things?"  
**"Some. Quite a few…okay a lot."**

Casey was suddenly aware that she was having this conversation on Derek's wall. She clicked on Mikey Essen's name and messaged him directly.

"I want to know everything he told you." She typed and clicked send.

"**Actually you probably don't." **Mikey replied.

"Give! Now Michael!"

There was a beep and a box appeared on her screen.

"You have one new friend request from **Mikey Essen. **Confirm or Ignore."

Without thinking, Casey clicked on Confirm, willing this "friend" to tell her which of her intimate indignities the late Derek Venturi had been sharing with his friends.

* * *

**AN: "Broken Penis" is apparently real – amazing what you learn in Cosmo!**

**Okay, the angst will lessen from now on. I'm going to try and introduce humour. I can't help it if my sense of humour is different to yours. :-)**

A hobby in Etymology (specifically names) would be fruitful here.


	4. Tales of the Unexpected

Casey glanced at the clock on her living room wall. It was late; far later than she normally stayed up at anniversary time. Normally, she would have turned off her laptop thirty minutes ago and have taken her sorry ass off to bed. She would have been through the annual rituals and tears, and be "looking forward" to the morning and a new day – and the start of a new year of life without Derek.

In the early years following his death, the days after his anniversary were bad too because she fussed at the memories of her subsequent actions: phoning Mom and George to tell them Derek was on his way to the hospital by air ambulance and in a serious condition, calling Sam and asking him to meet her there because he was already in Toronto where the helicopter with Casey and Derek would land; and then the following days, taking on the task of phoning around all their friends with the horrible news.

Now the post-anniversary "new year" for Casey always held the (vain) hope that something would change. He wouldn't come back, but she hoped that at some point the "wound-healing time" would kick in.

Already this year was different. This year the pattern had been broken and she had something new to concentrate on. She tapped impatient fingers against the desk surface whilst she waited for the little speech bubble icon on Facebook to change colour.

It didn't. Instead the Chat box appeared with a pop.

"So what do you want to know?" Mikey typed.

"I want to know every story he ever told you about me." Casey replied.

"That might take a while." Casey could almost hear the smirk.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"And you remember all of them?"

"Most of them. They are good ice-breakers. You know "Did you hear the one about the girl who fell down the stairs and bit a guy's butt?""  
If Casey had spoken the next words out-loud they would have been through gritted teeth. "From Klutzilla until the brownie party?"

"Actually Klutzilla wasn't the first story."

"Oh?"

"Nah. The first story was the one about how you met."

Anger gave way to despair and Casey groaned inwardly. Great! Derek had told his friends about the retainer-ladened hormonal teen that had arrived in London with a chip the size of an iceberg on her shoulder. Casey wasn't hugely proud of herself aged fifteen. In the intervening years she had apologised repeatedly to her mother and George for the way she had treated them. She had looked in at herself a lot since Derek's death and realised that she had faults.

Of course, most of them were _his_ fault…

"You still there?" The text appeared on the screen, and Casey realised her musings had been of some duration.

"Sorry. Just thinking about meeting Derek for the first time." She typed.

"Except you didn't. The first time. I mean it wasn't Derek who was waiting for you, was it?"

Casey smiled at the memory, despite herself, as she realised Mikey really did know most of the stories. She hadn't met _Derek_ at the school entrance that first day because Derek had persuaded Ralph to stand in for him. "Except I didn't." She confirmed.

"You know, you and Ralph would have made a lovely couple."

"Ralph thought I was going to be his step-sister…how does that make us a couple?"

"He originally thought you liked him."

"_Like_ liked?"

"Like liked."

"Ew!"

For a second Casey was appalled, and then she realised that was totally how Ralph's mind worked. It ran on few topics: music, "fashion" and, thanks to Derek's influence, the female of the species.

"Yeah. That sounds like Ralph." She frowned and returned to the subject at hand. "What did Derek say about me when we first met?"

She had always been curious what he had thought when they first met. She had had her own opinion of _him_…by then she already thought he was rude and arrogant and that was just when he was merely "Ralph".

As the real Derek he was rather too inclined to look her in the eye when she tried to stare him down. Teenage Casey hadn't liked that. She had liked it when people _lowered_ their eyes when challenged by her. It made her feel in control.

Derek didn't let her feel in control. Their fights had always involved a lot of eye contact. Sometimes it was like he could see into her soul. Of course it worked both ways. Derek applied the same policy to his own confrontations, maintaining eye contact with his adversary who inevitably dropped their gaze. And Casey didn't.

The whole Derek-Casey thing was like one of those games you play in grade three where you sit and stare at each other until one of you blinks.

"You mean did he mention the bangs and retainer?" Mikey teased, bringing her back from (fond) memories.

Casey groaned. This did not bode well. Was there nothing Derek hadn't told this guy?

"Oh god, he told you about that too?"

"Believe me, _Spacey_, there is very little that Derek Venturi didn't share with me."

"I'll…I'll…!" She fumed.

"You'll what? _Kill_ him?" her faceless companion typed.

"Tasteful, Michael. Tasteful." Casey snarked back.

Mikey's text-tone was amused. "Maybe there's an afterlife. When you die you could hide his halo or something."

"Believe me. Derek Venturi did not go _UP_ when he shuffled off this mortal coil. The only consolation I have if there is an afterlife is that we'll both have boarded ghost trains to different destinations." Casey muttered to herself as her fingers pecked out the same words on the keyboard.

"Okay." Mikey relented. "You could steal his pitchfork or something."

"Don't tempt me."

"You do realised that George gave Derek a talking to before he met you don't you?" Mikey commented a moment later.

"And said what?"

"Well what do you think?" Mikey would let her work this one out on her own.

"Erm…'be nice to her'?"

"Ha ha. Derek was about to meet a girl of his own age for the first time…Does it sound like George to say "be nice to her"?"

"No. Derek would have taken that as an invitation to…"

"Exactly. It was actually the opposite."

"The opposite?"

"Yeah. George told him not to hit on you." Mikey typed.

"Derek _hit_ on me! He wouldn't have…would he?" Casey protested.

Mikey's reply was a second late. "Yeah. He totally would have, this is fifteen year old Derek we're talking about."

"So I guess the retainer was a good thing…"  
"That and the fact that George told him he was planning on adopting you after the wedding, which would have made you legally his sister. Even Derek drew the line at boning his sister."

"Boning?"

"His words."

"But George…"

There was a pop before Casey finished typing and Mikey had added to his previous comment. "I know George never did adopt you."

Casey sat forward. "I was going to say George lied to Derek." She typed.

"How so?"  
"He could never have adopted me."

"Because…?"

"You can only adopt someone whose parents are dead or have relinquished parental responsibility. Both my parents were- are- still involved in my life."

"But your mom was – is- married to George."

"Makes no difference. Unless my dad died or went to court to say he didn't want to be my legal guardian anymore George could never have adopted me. Adoption legally wipes out your legal entitlement to your birth parent and prohibits you from inheriting from them by default. Dad would never have agreed to that."

"Sonofa…I never knew that!"

"It wouldn't have made a difference to Derek though." Casey reassured Mikey. "I still had big bangs and a retainer."

"Ah but Ralph thought you were hot."

"Ralph also thought pleather was cool."

"Good point. Hey did you just talk yourself down?"

"Yes. Unlike certain late step-brothers I don't have an ego that needs feeding."

"Hmmm….debatable."

"What's that supposed to mean…?"

"Ahem! Nothing. So what else do you want to know about?"  
"I don't know…it's getting late."  
"Not here it isn't."

"Where are you?"  
"Currently? Vancouver. I move around a lot though."

"Oh. I knew someone who studied there once."  
"Sally."

"You know about Sally?"

"Yeah. You weren't the only girl in Derek's life you know."

Casey snorted, though her "audience" couldn't hear it. "I never claimed to be. And Sally was in a different category of Derek "girl" - the love of his life. Or at least the closest he got to it."

"That's also debatable. Is she still here? In Vancouver, I mean."

"No. She married a Scot a few years back. She teaches French to seven year old Scottish children now."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Wow. Good on her. How do you know?"  
"She emails Mom and George every now and then. Sends pictures of her two children because Mom likes to ask after them."

"Does she miss him?"  
"Yes…as much as one does when an ex-boyfriend dies suddenly and before their time."

There was a long pause.

"That's nice…of her to remember him. Do _you_ miss him?"

"Derek?"

"Yes, Derek."

Casey sighed. She might well have admitted that she missed Derek to his old Facebook account earlier but no one would ever read that. She didn't want to discuss this with the faceless stranger. She decided to throw it back to him.

"Stop changing the subject, I want to know what else he said about me."

"Tell me if you miss him and I'll tell you what he said." Mikey pushed.  
"Tell me what he said and I'll tell you if I miss him."

Mikey was getting frustrated. "Casey."

"Nope."

"Come on."

"You aren't going to win Michael, I learnt from the best."

"And would that best be Derek Venturi?"

Casey wasn't about to admit to anything. "What about the bedroom fiasco?" Casey changed tact. "That started the day we moved in. What did he say about that?"

"You mean when you tried to steal his room?"

"I didn't want his room I wanted some space of my own."

"The way I heard it, you had space…you just wanted more than your fair share."  
Casey gasped. "I had a six inch strip between my bed and Lizzie's and a desk in the hallway."

"More than adequate."

"In your eyes?"

"In Derek's eyes."  
"Huh. Well if you want to talk about taking more than his fair share…Derek used to eat us out of house and home."  
"He was a growing guy."

"_He_ was or his ego?" Casey asked.

She waited for a response, but none was forth-coming. After five minutes, the little box on the screen announced that Mikey Essen was "Off-line". She frowned, wondering where he had gone. Casey flicked back through the messages wondering if she had offended him. But there was nothing.

It was strange how empty she suddenly felt, as though he had partially plugged a missing hole in her for a short while. She waited, impatient for him to return but after a further twenty minutes, gave up and went to bed.

* * *

A very long distance away, Mikey ended the call he had just received on his cell phone, and tapped the device against his bottom lip thoughtfully. He glanced at the laptop in front of him and shut it down without closing his web brower first.

Casey would think it was rude of him, but he couldn't help that. His mind was on other things and he needed to remain focussed; something he wouldn't do if he was thinking about her.

He stepped back from the cooling computer, closed its lid and unplugged the power cord, wrapping it up and sliding it into a pouch alongside the machine itself. Then he ran his hands through his hair as a nervous habit, picked up the Glock pistol from the table beside him and slipped it into the holster under his arm.

Quickly, he moved through the apartment retrieving the few items that could not be left: The laptop, slim, high-end and not yet officially released to the general public went into the side pocket of the tiny suitcase. His clothes, whilst also expensive were non-descript and completely untraceable but he needed them to maintain his business man fiction so they too were packed. And of course, the solitary photograph wallet.

As he started to leave the apartment with his essentials, he grabbed the leather jacket from the hook by the door. It wasn't cold out, but he was usually wearing some kind of jacket. It was necessary to cover the hardware near his armpit. He glanced one last time into the apartment, checking he had missed nothing and left only his fingerprints and the spicy masculine scent in the air. (He wasn't worried about his fingerprints they weren't on any database anyway.)

Mikey descended to the ground floor with his suitcase at a brisk pace and using the stairs because he was young and fit, and also because elevators were little more than cages and he liked to have more than one escape route.

He took the door marked Parking rather than the one marked Lobby and within seconds was letting himself into a new, high-end but otherwise non-descript car.

Mikey didn't floor it out of the secure underground parking lot. Instead he drove calmly but skilfully out into the night.

A short time later, he pulled up at the rental returns section of the airport. His cardboard rental wallet and paperwork in the name of Paul Murphy were ready in his hand even as he climbed out. He unloaded his suitcase and fidgeted slightly as the Rental operative circled the vehicle looking for scratch marks and dents.

"Can we make this quick?" Mikey said in a heavy LA drawl. "I'm going to be late for my flight."

"Sorry Mr Murphy. I just need your signature here."

Mikey signed the paperwork with a frustrated sigh, grabbed his suitcase and ran for the terminal building.

Inside, there was a large party of skiers taking up much of the check-in desk area but that didn't seem to phase him. Mikey slipped into their midst, turned a corner and entered the washrooms. Glancing at the communal space and deciding he was alone, he chose an end cubicle because it was designed with wheel chair users in mind and slipped inside, bolting the door.

The man who emerged from the cubicle three minutes later looked nothing like Mikey. The suitcase was gone, replaced by a large holdall, the leather jacket was a brightly coloured Leaf's jersey, and he wore a mis-matched baseball cap on his head. A set of thick-rimmed, thick-lensed glasses were resting on his nose.

The washroom now had other occupants and Mikey smiled warmly at them, and all previous sign of hurry had disappeared. He held the external door open for an elderly man, and nodded and said "good evening" to the cleaner in a Toronto accent.

Mikey left the washrooms and re-entered the concourse again, but instead of queuing up for a flight, he made his way to the exit, turned right towards the Long Stay car parking and made his way towards the battered dark pickup he knew was waiting for him, its key tucked under the fender.

It was ten thirty pm and an hour since he had logged off.

And he had many hours of driving ahead of him.


	5. Catching Up

Sam was waiting for Casey as she drove up the following Friday night. He smiled at the vehicle as it pulled in beside his identical one on the driveway. He remembered the arguments they had had over Sunday lunch several months ago: Casey telling Sam he needed a new car now that he was going to be a dad, Sam telling her the old one was fine; Casey telling Sam it was a gas-guzzler and had a dreadful safety record and Sam telling her the baby seat fitted just fine in this one;

And then she had pulled out her laptop and insisted on showing him the specification of the car _she_ had just chosen for herself, a car so obviously designed with doctors in mind. It had been economic, environmentally friendly, rated in the top three saloons for safety, and even had pollen filters on the aircon ducts. But it was the price that had won him over. Casey had managed to negotiate a very good deal.

Of course when he had taken her with him to the dealer "for a look", the staff had all run for cover as soon as they saw her, and a junior car washer was sent out to ask if there was something wrong with her order. Casey had flashed a charming smile and explained that she was here with her friend who was interested in a similar car – at the same price. The main salesman emerged from under his desk at that point…but Sam wasn't surprised when the deal was done and signed in less than ten minutes. Obviously, Casey had made quite an impression.

She made quite an impression now, opening her trunk and retrieving her laptop bag and a big basket of what appeared to be new toys. Sam chuckled to himself. Even if he and Ruth hadn't spoilt their own child rotten, her godmother would have done the job for them. Sam and Ruth let her. They were aware that they owed Casey a lot for delivering the baby safely…and at least little Amelia brought some of the spark back into their friend's eyes.

"More toys, Case?"

"These aren't toys. They are educational support aides including a treasure basket. They are made from hygienic wood and other safe materials and are designed to encourage the child's understanding of the world around them. People get too hung up on their child hurting themselves so all the early toys are normally cloth. It's healthy for a child to encounter other materials…under supervision of course!" She clarified.

_Once a keener, always a keener!_ Sam thought wryly. He hugged Casey and led her into the house where Ruth and Amelia were waiting.

"Hi Case!" Ruth greeted her. "Wow! You look…different?"

"Do I?" Casey was taken aback.

"Yes. Is that a new top?"

Casey had to look down to see what she was wearing. "Oh…yes. I bought it at the weekend."

Sam and Ruth exchanged a glance. "You went _clothes _shopping?" Ruth asked. It wasn't a stupid question. Neither Sam nor Ruth could remember the last time that Casey had cared enough about her appearance to voluntarily go clothes shopping. She might still go into town for the essentials like groceries and the bank, but she only normally replaced clothes when they fell apart…and then she bought from the clothing aisles at Wal-mart.

The top she was wearing today was clearly not from Wal-mart. And it suited her.

"I had an hour free on Saturday morning." Casey explained. "Did you know there's a new boutique opened six blocks from the bank?"  
Ruth nodded. "It's been there a while." _Like…five years Casey._

Whilst Ruth was relieved to see that Casey had suddenly started paying attention to her appearance again, she did note that her friend still used the bank as the reference point for all directions.

"Oh. Anyway, I've brought some new stuff for Amelia." Casey grinned at the baby who was lying on her tummy on the baby mat. "Hello angel! How are you?" She asked, and immediately plopped herself down on the floor. Amelia lifted her head up and grinned a toothless grin at Casey.

"Are you sure you're going to be okay tonight?" Sam asked Casey. She nodded.

"Amelia will be fine with me. Is there milk in the freezer?" Ruth nodded. "And everything else is where it usually is?"

"Yup. Thanks for this Casey. You don't know what it means to have some time to ourselves."

Casey smiled, not at all bitter that they craved what she had an abundant excess of. "You go have fun…because we sure will." She reassured them. Ruth disappeared into their bedroom to change.

"Ruth's right, you know." Sam said. He was already dressed for the dinner date so had nothing to do but wait for Ruth. "You do look better. Has something happened?"

Casey shrugged. "Not really. I don't know why you think I've changed."

"You went shopping Casey. You haven't done that properly in years."

"I just fancied it."

She hadn't _fancied _ anything either, but Sam let the subject drop. Casey picked up one of the new toys and handed it to her little charge who promptly gummed it.

"Sam? Did you ever meet Derek's friend Mikey?"

Sam was thoughtful. "Derek had a lot of friends. I met most of them. Why?"

"I think he was a special friend."

"Special?" Sam was fairly sure that Casey didn't mean _that_ sort of special friend.

"Someone he confided in."  
Sam snorted. "Derek didn't confide in anyone, Casey. You know that. Derek didn't do confidences..."

"I know…I know. It's just…I was talking to him last week and he _knew_ so much about me."

For a moment, Sam missed heard her. "Talking to Derek?" He really hoped she wasn't serious because if she was she needed _help_ and soon…preferably before he left his daughter in her care.

"No silly! I was talking to Mikey…on Facebook."

"And he knew of you?" Sam was relieved and concerned at the same time, wondering who it was that Casey had befriended.

"He didn't just know _of _me. He knew everything about me…or rather me and my relationship with Derek."

"Oh." Sam wasn't exactly sure what else he should say. "So do you talk to him a lot?"  
Casey bit her bottom lip. "No…that's just it. We talked…or rather fought…for a while this one time and then he just didn't reply. I haven't heard from him since."  
"You fought?"

Casey smiled at the memory. "More like bantered. It was…nice."

Sam found it a little disconcerting that she apparently felt better because she had found someone new to fight with.

"I just wondered if you knew him…I wanted to find out some other way of contacting him…you know…in case I said the wrong thing. It's been several days and he hasn't been back on."

"No I don't know him. And you should be careful, Casey. Don't tell him where you live or anything."

"Sam, I wasn't born yesterday. Besides, I'm more at risk at the hospital remember?"  
They both cast their minds back briefly to the previous year when Casey had been threatened at knife point by a drug addict. Fortunately, the guy had been so out of it he attacked her in front of one of the burly security guards and had been quickly over-powered.

"I know. It's just with Derek gone someone has to be the big brother."

Casey stood up and hugged Sam.

"Thank you, Sammy. I wouldn't know what to do without you and Ruth." Her eyes began to brim over with tears until a gurgle from the mat made them both turn back to Amelia.

* * *

It was nine pm and Sam and Ruth would be home in a couple of hours. Casey had managed to get Amelia to go to bed, and the tiny child was snoring gently in her cot in her parents' room, the monitor picking up her breathy sounds and carrying them to Casey in the living room…

…who was currently logged onto her laptop using Sam's WiFi connection. As a rule she didn't check her personal email every night, but since the disappearance of Mikey she had found herself checking all her accounts little more frequently. She still wanted to know where he – the one person who checked Derek's Facebook page on his anniversary - had gone.

She had been logged in for a while by now; exhausted all her email accounts and social networking sites and was currently re-reading some of the messages on Derek's Facebook wall. The "pop" of the chat box made her jump because although she had hoped for it all evening, she hadn't expected it.

"Hi." Mikey typed.

"Hi stranger." Casey replied. "Where did you go?"

"Yeah…sorry about that. I was on-call and work needed me."

"Are you on call now?" She asked, trying to work out what the time was in Vancouver.

Mikey stretched in his seat. He didn't volunteer the fact that he was no longer anywhere near Vancouver.

"No. I'm at home. So how's your evening doing?"

_Significantly better since I found you're still talking to me._ Casey thought, and wondered why it matter to her after just one (confrontational) conversation with this faceless stranger.

However, she only typed. "It's good. I'm waiting for the baby to wake for her feed."

Mikey stared in shock at the screen; the beer he was in the process of lifting to his lips froze mid-air.

When he had decided to reply to Casey's post on Derek's wall last week, he hadn't been aware of anything about her current circumstances. He didn't know what she did…if she was married…

Fuck! Casey had a _baby_?

The questions came flooding to his mind. Who had she married? Did he know them? Was this her first baby?

He wasn't sure what his motivation had been to contact her…or to continue that contact tonight. He closed his eyes against the thought of Casey as a mother…of Casey as a wife; because – he knew Casey and if she was a mother, she was most definitely a wife!

Casey – married with a baby? That was…just…he wasn't sure he understood the way that made him feel.

He opened one eye and typed "Baby?"

"Amelia. She's three months old. She's beautiful."

"Of course she is." He typed and took a mouthful of beer. _Just look at her mom._

"She looks like Sam." Casey typed.

Mikey spat his beer across the screen and then hastily wiped it off with his long t-shirt sleeve. (Technical support would kill him if he screwed up another laptop – especially if the wreckage smelled of beer…tech support guys would know it was beer. They had a sixth sense for beer…at parties they were always the ones hanging round the kegs talking about bandwidth and internet protocols.)

He pushed thoughts of them away from his brain and concentrated on what Casey had just said. The baby looked like Sam!

"She looks like _Sam_?" He typed…he wouldn't have been able to _say_ the words. He was still coughing the beer out of his lungs.

"Yes…but then you would expect that. Of course, she mostly looks like Ruth which is a relief, but you can still see Sam around the eyes and she has his hair colour."

Mikey frowned. "Who's Ruth?"  
"Sam's wife. Amelia's mom."

Mikey relaxed and willed his heart to return to normal.

"Sam's married?" He asked, blowing out a breath.

"Yes. Just over two years now."

"And Amelia's their daughter?" _Just checking_.  
"And my god-daughter."

Mikey smiled with relief and for a moment felt a surge of warmth for Sam. Derek's former best friend had stayed in Casey's life enough to have her as his child's godmother. Mikey was grateful to him.

"What did you do to deserve that? Bend his arm behind his back?" He teased.

"I delivered her."

Mikey looked at the words in astonishment. Casey was one mass of surprises tonight. Did she mean she was there at the birth? Or did she mean that she was some weird sort of surrogate mom? …he could _totally_ see Casey doing that.

"Oh." He said, wishing he didn't sound like a simpleton or as though he couldn't speak…she'd have loved that. (Him…speechless.) "Was it scary?" He added. That was good. It would lead to more information, hopefully.

"Not really. I've delivered babies before. It was different because this baby was close to my heart already though."  
"You've delivered babies."  
"Yes. You sort of have to as part of your clinical rotation."

"You're a medic?" The fog cleared.

"I'm an ER doctor." Casey said and despite everything, there was a tinge of pride in her voice.

_Wow! Was not expecting that._

"That's…wow!" And then in typical Mikey fashion. "…why?"

Casey took a deep breath. It was always hard to explain when people asked her this. Normally, she just said "I wanted to make a difference."

Tonight however, she wanted to tell the truth.

"When you are sitting in a next-of-kin waiting room in the ER, you want to know that the person working on your relative is working their hardest to make them well again. I wanted to be the person trying…for the next-of-kin."

Mikey didn't want to ask but he needed to. "Because of Derek?"

"When they brought him into the ER from the helicopter it was hard to watch, but I couldn't look away. The medics danced a well-rehearsed dance around him and there was such skill involved. It was beautiful and sick at the same time. Of course now I just know it was routine and probably for those doctors at the time he was just another patient. I don't blame them…but _my_ patients…each one of them is special."

"You're good at your job." It was a statement.

"I hope so." And then the killer question. "What do _you_ do?"

"I'm an administrator." Mikey said smiling the small smile he always smiled when he made that statement. He rarely had to say more. People decided in their own minds that it involved paper-pushing and monotony. He let them.

"An administrator of what?" Casey asked.

_Trust you to stick your nose in._ He mentally commented, rolling his eyes.

"Paper clips." He joked.

"Ha ha. That boring eh?"

"You wouldn't believe it."

"Oh I believe it. I've been in the hospital administrator's office before now. One of these days instead of prescribing sleeping medication for my patients I'm just going to set up gurneys in her room."

Mikey laughed and hastened to change the subject – to what he was desperate to know, although for the life of him, he couldn't tell why.

"So…Sam's married. Are you?"  
"No."

"Significant other?"  
"No."

"Boyfriend?"  
"No…why? You interested?" Casey kicked herself for typing that as soon as she clicked the button.

Mikey's eyes widened. _Okay…sexually assertive Casey. That will take some getting used to._

"Are you that desperate? Chatting up a stranger on line…" He suggested, still more than a little freaked out at _her_ suggestion.

"Desperate? I'm not desperate…" Casey protested. Then she thought back to how she had sat waiting for a week to speak to a guy with whom she had only exchanged a few sentences. _Okay, maybe I am a little desperate._

"…Casey does internet dating…Love me, love my Inbox…Love letters straight from mySpace…" Mikey was on a roll.

"I'm not desperate…that's not why I'm on here."

"Really? So you're not looking for…."

"I'M NOT DESPERATE!" She typed furiously. "Besides. What does that make you, Mikey? A cyber-geek?"  
He emoted a smiley with a sticky-out tongue.

Casey continued. "…are _you_ single?"


	6. Shelley

"_Are you single?"_

Mikey snorted at the screen…he was growing accustomed to the more aggressive Casey. He quite liked it. It added a new layer to an already complex relationship.

"Why…you interested?" he teased.

"Just answer the question." Casey wasn't in the mood.

"Yes. I'm single." He admitted.

"Why?"

"Too many women, not enough hours." He joked.

"Oh…so you're ugly then." Casey typed back. "Now I know why you have a picture of a teddy bear in a Leaf's shirt for your profile picture – and no photo albums." Mikey laughed.

"Yup. You caught me, I'm as ugly as sin…still interested?"  
"Pah! I also know what Derek saw in you as a friend."  
"Oh?"

"A fellow ego. Tell me, do you have to turn sideways to get through the doors?"

"Yeah but I don't mind because my profile is my best feature."

"Really…what a shame!"

Mikey laughed at his screen and then his face fell to a look of regret. He had missed this…the snark. It had been a very long time and that brought back a long-hidden sadness.

"I'm single because I work long, unsociable hours." He admitted suddenly and without warning. It reminded Casey of a conversation on the floor of a bathroom when she was covered in toothpaste and shampoo, and Derek…was almost human.

"Join the club." Casey said. "Life in the ER is pretty unsociable too."

"How long has it been for you?" Mikey asked. "Since you last went on a date."

"A while."

"That long huh?" It should have be said with a teasing in his voice, but instead the tone was more one of understanding.

Casey said nothing.

Mikey was quiet too. "I think I last took someone on a date about three years ago." He finally admitted.

"That sucks!"

"No…she didn't." A characteristic about-turn but he needed to lighten the mood.

"Michael! That's just…"  
"I know!" He laughed.

"Ew!" Casey sighed.

"Oh come on…laugh. It will do you good to lose that stick out of your ass."

"I don't have a stick up my rear-end, I just…think that there are some places you don't go to in conversations with someone you've only met twice."

"Technically we haven't met at all. At least not recently."

"Even more reason to keep a handle on your wit."  
Casey groaned as she looked at her own words on the screen, knowing full well what was coming next.

Mikey didn't disappoint. "How do you know I don't have a firm hand on my "wit" right now?" Predictable.

Casey's own mind descended into the gutter rapidly. "Because I know men, and they can't multi-task. Your hands are only capable of touching your keyboard while you're talking to me. You're probably itching to get off the computer so that you can go and exercise your "wit" elsewhere."

"That would involve leaving you to exercise your own "wit" alone." Mikey replied and Casey felt her cheeks go red. "And we all know that women are very good at multi-tasking… Am I embarrassing you yet?"

"No." Casey lied. Her cheeks were pink but she was secretly enjoying this game.

"Good." Mikey lied in return. He knew Casey was lying. She might have become more confident about sex but he knew that she wasn't the sort of girl who normally entered into this sort of conversation.

He retreated to safer subjects...Sam, Ruth and the disturbing truth that Sam was now a married father-of-one. Casey told him about how Sam and Ruth met, fell in love and how the marriage very nearly hadn't happened because of Ralph's antics at the bachelor party. Casey had a very eloquent way of telling a story and Mikey found himself picturing the events quite clearly. When Casey flicked through the photos on her laptop hard drive and sent him a couple he laughed along with her.

Then he proceeded to tell her about the last bachelor party at his work.

After a while, Casey found herself admitting, "You know despite your complete lack of verbal filter…and your appalling wit, talking to you is kind of…okay."  
"Admit it. Talking to me is more than "okay".

"Don't push it buster."

* * *

Casey was now lying on Sam and Ruth's couch, her laptop resting on her lap and her head propped up on a large soft cushion. She was tapping away at her keyboard, talking to Mikey, a smile on her face.

They had been talking for an hour and a half and so far she had learnt that Derek had actually caught a glimpse of what Casey looked like _before_ he officially "met" her when he frisked Nora's purse during one of her mother's pre-wedding "sleep overs". It appeared Nora liked to keep a picture of Casey in her "cat" ballet costume in her wallet.

Mortified that Derek had seen her in lycra before they had been properly introduced, Casey had sulked…until Mikey had also informed her that Derek had confided that he wet the bed until he was ten, and that his failure of grade one was because he had secretly had a _thing_ for his teacher and he thought he would spend more time with her. Both pieces of gossip had made her giggle and increased her interest in Derek's elusive friend. For the first time in a long while, Casey found that she was thinking about someone other than Derek. That made her pause. Whilst moving on was good, moving on because of a complete stranger who she had never met (sober at least) sounded rather dangerous.

She heard Sam's car on the driveway.

"I've got to go. Sam's home." She typed.

"Sure." There was a pause. "Same time tomorrow night?"

Casey probably should say something to distance herself from this…_friendship_? But instead she found herself typing "I'll be here."

Sam and Ruth were giggling softly as they came through the door, and Casey noticed that Sam was holding onto his wife's hand. She smiled a little to herself and quickly stood to start collecting her things.

"Everything okay?" Ruth asked as she dropped Sam's hand.

"She's fine. Amelia had her milk about half an hour ago – She was very hungry so you're out of expressed milk by the way. You'll have to do the middle of the night feed. Anyway, she's got a fresh diaper and she's snuggled back down."

Ruth nodded. "I prefer doing the night feeds myself. They're the most important ones of the day, because they are the trigger feeds that keep your body producing milk."

Casey knew that, of course, it had been covered under her medical training, but learning the science of breastfeeding was one thing, Casey had learnt far more by watching her friend - a fact that had been commented on by a midwife in the ER a few weeks ago who had complimented Casey on her handling of the needs of the wife of a trauma patient. The poor lady and her new baby had accompanied the husband to the hospital and Casey had spent time getting her settled somewhere so that she could feed the baby in privacy. The midwife had commented that Casey had a natural talent for all things baby and that maybe she should be in obs/gyn rather than trauma. Casey had smiled and thanked her, without elaborating on why she was in trauma medicine. The midwife sensing that Casey's opinion wouldn't be swung then suggested that maybe she should find herself a nice guy and start having babies of her own. The thought caused a tinge of sadness in Casey. Sometimes over the past three months, Casey had wondered if she would ever experience parenthood first hand. But deep down she knew the answer was no. The past had damaged her to the point where she couldn't date, let alone handle a long term relationship; marriage and children were never going to happen.

"Thank you, Casey." Sam said as he followed her to the front door. "We really appreciate everything you do for us."  
"I like doing it Sam. Let's face it…I don't exactly have much in the way of alternatives."

"What did you do tonight? Did you watch the DVD we left for you?"

Casey shook her head. "I had some emailing to catch up on."

"To Mikey?" Sam asked, noting the brightness in her eyes. Casey said nothing.

Sam sighed. "Casey, I'm not going to judge okay? Frankly I'm relieved that you are starting to live a little. If this guy makes you feel better, I'm all for it. But just be careful. You're one of my best friends. You are the sister of my best friend and I know that Derek would want me to tell you to be cautious. I mean. How would he have reacted to this?"

Casey snorted. "He'd have cracked my password, logged on and told the guy I was a Russian shot-putter called Helga, and that whilst he could carry on communicating with me if he wanted to, he should just be warned that my bras could probably double as a bowling ball bag."

Sam grinned. "Yup. I can totally see that."

Casey bent across and pecked Sam on the cheek. "Thanks, for caring. I won't be able to do next week. I've got Marti coming for a visit."

"Marti?" Sam sounded surprised. "I thought none of the family ever came over here any more."  
"Me too. But she says she has to come across, and she wants to stay. It'll be nice…I think. I haven't really spent any time with her in so long."

"Not since that disastrous night when you stayed with her and you both spent the night sobbing your hearts out."  
Casey grimaced. "Hmmm. Thanks. I'm nervous enough about her visit."

Sam relented. "Time has passed Casey. You've both moved on."

"It doesn't change the fact that Marti is the person who should be grieving the most and I feel like a fraud around her."

"Grief hits people in different ways, Case."  
"I know." Casey straightened. "Now let me clear off so that you can go and make love to your wife." She laughed at Sam's expression. "I saw the glint in your eye when you got home. Go Sam. She's probably wondering why you haven't come to bed yet."

"You're too like Derek at times. Evil, but I still love you."

"I love you too. Take Care. I'll call you next week."

* * *

When Casey reached her apartment, she quickly got herself ready for bed. It wasn't that late, but she wanted to be comfortable. Sitting in bed with her laptop on her knees again, she debated whether or not to log on.

Her resistance didn't last and soon she was back in Facebook, and looking to see if Mikey was still on.

There was a new message from him in her Inbox.

"Hail to thee Blythe Spirit! Sorry you had to go. Things should be better for a few days so I will be around. What's your schedule like? Not that I'm assuming you want to talk to me or anything…Anyway, I've got an early start so I'm off to bed. Speak to you…whenever?"

Casey smiled.

"Really? Shelley?" She replied, her surprise showing in her punctuation. Mikey didn't strike her as the kind of person who could quote large amounts of poetry. Whilst she didn't want to be disparaging about the guy she figured it had probably been used in a commercial for some sort of cheap alcohol or something.

Evidently Mikey had not yet logged off, because a reply came back.

" 'We look before and after,

And pine for what is not:

Our sincerest laughter

With some pain is fraught;

Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.'" He quoted and then addressed her "…Night, Mary!"

Mikey logged off immediately and Casey was left thinking how appropriate the words were to their situation…and of an English project, this poem about a Skylark…and a stepbrother begging her for help.

* * *

The rest of the week passed peacefully. Casey worked day shifts, and spent her nights bantering with Mikey. The conversations followed a pattern; light-hearted arguments followed by a more serious comment, and somewhere along the line, a discussion about an event in Derek and Casey's past: the first night after Sam's it was about the grade-grubbing incident, since Mikey had quoted Shelley. The following nights it was about chicken pox and Derek's cameo as a Mafioso.

Casey's run of day shifts eventually finished and then she was placed on nights. Those hours meant she was often at the hospital from eight in the evening until eight in the morning, so communicating at night was a problem. Casey was starting to think that she would have to wait until her three days "on shift" was up, but she happened to comment on how Mikey never seemed to be away from home these days, answering her messages whenever she sent them.

He replied "TGF Blackberrys. I'm at work!" Casey kicked herself for her stupidity and promptly downloaded the Facebook application for her own blackberry, whilst trying to ignore the fact that daily communication with the guy was becoming an important part of her routine.

At the end of the week, Casey had a day off. She spent the whole time cleaning her apartment, disgusted at the state it had slipped into. The Casey self-makeover had continued and she was starting to get back a little pride in her surroundings. She scrubbed and polished, and for the first time in a long while, she worked while her ipod played.

Marti was coming.


	7. The Visit

Casey was nervous. This morning when she had woken up she had felt physically sick and breakfast was so far from something that she could contemplate that she merely sipped at some water and went for a shower. She had spent a very long time tidying, and the apartment was immaculate but she still felt as though there were things she needed to do.

She dressed quickly in jeans and a smart red sweater glancing at the clock frequently and fidgeting with her hair. It had been a couple of weeks since she had seen Marti. It had been many years since she had last been with Marti in London. The last time they had spent any private time together was the instance Sam had mentioned when both women had cried. Casey was not ready for a repeat.

Her phone buzzed, and believing it was Marti with an ETA, she picked it up.

"How are you this morning?" Mikey's PM asked. Casey smiled. He usually left it till later in the day before he contacted her. She quite liked the fact that she had been on his mind first thing.

And then she berated herself for even contemplating that.

"Nervous." Casey typed back.

"Because?"  
"Derek's sister is coming to stay."  
"Marti?" The reply came instantly and it appeared had caused some shock. And then shortly afterwards, "Why are you nervous of Marti? Don't you get on?"  
"Yes we do. But her coming here is out of character, so I'm nervous as to the reason for her visit. And we have a habit of bawling on each other's shoulders when we are together."

Mikey who was walking along a corridor at work stopped and ran his fingers through his hair before typing. "Over Derek?" he asked, but he knew the answer. These two were the two people Derek was closest to. It stood to reason that being together would be painful for them because of their shared loss.

"How is Marti?" Mikey asked.

But the girl herself had arrived and he received no reply.

* * *

Casey met her sister on the sidewalk. Marti was still slim and attractive but these days had things tied into her hair and a tiny diamante stud in her nose. Today she was wearing dark green tartan pantyhose and a long green granddad shirt belted at the waist. The car she had just left sported a vivid purple customised paint job which involved violets and pansies and what looked like a massive gerbera on the hood, but it was brand new. Marti definitely did not drive the Prince.

After Derek's death, the family had discovered to their surprise that he had a rather hefty life insurance policy on himself and that they were all named as the beneficiaries. George had been incredulous until Derek's hockey coach had informed him that the policy was required by the university for all students taking part in "high impact/high risk" activities. Forced to accept the money, it certainly helped the Venturis, but they all knew that they would have preferred to have the person rather than the money.

The result was that the Venturis weren't quite so impoverished as they had previously been; a situation compounded by the fact that a distant relative also died shortly after Derek. Apparently George had been instrumental in some life-changing decision the relative had made while they were much, much younger and in gratitude, the relative had left a very large inheritance to George. (George could remember nothing about the relative or the event which led to the generosity. Because they were all so shell-shocked from Derek's death, no one investigated further.)

The money gave them the opportunity to move away from London to Toronto, and for Casey to buy her own apartment. She did so reluctantly and only because their parents insisted. At first the apartment was in Kingston so that she could complete her studies. After she graduated, she purchased a new apartment in London, mortgaging the Kingston one and renting it out to students on the Dean's hardship list for a reduced rental. Profiting from Derek's death was not something she aimed for.

Her London apartment was basic, but it did have two bedrooms. And for the next week, the girl currently walking towards her would be living in the spare one.

"Hi Sis!" Marti called, running to hug Casey.

"Hi Smarts!" Casey hugged her back enthusiastically, using Derek's nickname for her without thinking. Marti fortunately chuckled.

"It's been a while since I heard that."

Casey paled as she realised what she had done. Marti shook her head.

"It's fine, Spacey." She said deliberately returning the favour and Casey smiled at her warmly.

"And a while since…" She started and then realised that actually it hadn't been that long since someone had called her that. Mikey sometimes called her that.

"…and a while since what?" Marti asked.

Casey shook her head. "Nothing." She pulled back and looked at Marti's attire. "Nice tartan." She commented to change the subject.

"Thanks. Do you like the shirt? It was one of Derek's. Nora and I had a bit of a clear out the other day and there were a whole load of his shirts still there. I brought you one of them because I know you bought it for him. I couldn't bring myself to throw it out."

Casey looked at the green shirt Marti was wearing, and realised she did recognise it. It was funny but two weeks ago the sight of that shirt might have made her weep, but now it only made her want to reach out and touch it. She did exactly that.

Marti smiled. "Yeah. I did that too. Your shirt is in my bag."

Casey pulled herself together and grabbed Marti's bag from her hand. "Shall we go in?"

* * *

"This is nice." Marti said walking around Casey's apartment poking her nose into cupboards and corners.

"It's home." Casey replied simply. "How was the journey?"

"Really quick. I don't know why you and Nora moan about it so much."

"Erm…probably because we don't drive as fast as you?" Her sister suggested.

"I went to the Venturi school of driving." Marti said. They both giggled and Casey led the way into the bedroom that would be Marti's for a while.

"So…When do I get to hear why I have the pleasure of your company?" Casey asked sitting down on the bed and watching as Marti, bangles clinking together noisily rummaged in her holdall.

"Well I'm here for an interview. Part of the requirement of my Graphic arts course is that I get some relevant work experience. I have to complete a six month stint somewhere art-related. My tutor has managed to line up an interview with a leading fashion magazine which is based in London."

"Wow! That's great Marti!"

"It's okay. I'm more interested in graphic art though than fashion. I want to make sure that what they are offering me isn't cutting patterns and pinning supermodels. I don't think I could handle that. A few of the pins might find their way to deflating some egos." Her sister chuckled and Marti noticed a slight sparkle in her eyes that had been missing for a very long time.

"And you would be happy working/living…_here_?" Casey asked, oblivious to Marti's scrutiny. "I mean you haven't lived here in a long time."

"I'm not like Dad and Nora, Case. I'm not avoiding London. I moved with everyone else because I was young and I had to. I stayed with them because I had to. Now I choose to study in Toronto but ultimately, there's no reason for me to not live in London anymore." She paused. "I promise I won't stake out any banks while I'm here." It was a comment on the way she had behaved immediately after Derek's death. Casey nodded and there was a companionable silence during which Casey reflected on what Marti had said. She knew her sister was right.

"Besides," Marti went on. "You look like you could use some company in town."

"Well I'm okay. I have Sam, Ruth and Ralph to keep an eye on me, but I'm up for a sister nearby too."

"Good. Because if I get this job I'm going to need help looking for somewhere to stay."

Casey reached over and took Marti's hand. "Smarti, if you get this job, you're going to live here."

Derek's only true sister looked up at the girl who had become so important in her life. "Thank you." She said. "I'm not even going to try and fight you on that one…I don't want to be anywhere else."

And Casey wondered why she had been so nervous about seeing Marti.

* * *

After that, Casey dragged Marti to a nearby diner for brunch and a catch up. Suddenly, Casey was ravenous and found herself ordering a massive pile of pancakes. Marti looked at the small picture on the menu and nodded at the waitress.

"Hell yes! I'll have the same!" She announced.

Casey laughed. "You looked just like Derek then." She said. Marti shrugged.

"I'm a growing girl!"

And with that they both dissolved into fits of giggles as they both remembered how that was Derek's excuse for the volume of food he put away. Casey found herself wiping away tears but this time they were of laughter, rather than sorrow. They both sobered slightly and Marti squeezed Casey's hand.

They exchanged pleasantries while they waited for their food: stories of home and friends. Marti asked after Amelia, and Casey promised that they had an open invitation from Sam and Ruth for them to visit while she was in town.

Marti appeared to be doing well at university, although it was still early days, she was only just starting her second year.

The food arrived at last and they exchanged looks when they saw the size of the plates.

"Maybe we should have shared a plate." Casey offered. Marti laughed.

"This looks like the pile Nora used to make on pancake Sundays."

"Of which Derek ate half!" Casey added.

Marti cut into the oozing mess on her plate, syrup dripping from her fork. She quickly popped the forkful into her mouth and chewed watching Casey do the same. As soon as the food cleared her own mouth, she pounced.

"You seem…different."

Casey froze. "Really?" She asked, making a big show of cutting up pancakes and swirling them in maple syrup. Marti did the same.

"Yes. More…I don't know…with it?"

Casey shrugged. "I'm still me."

Marti shook her head. "That's exactly it Casey. You're more like the old you…the pre-Derek you."

Her sister took a sip of her coffee and watched Marti over the cup.

"You seem a bit chipper yourself." She pointed out. "I mean…the last time you and I discussed Derek at length we both ended up in tears."

"I remember."

"It's hard to forget. So what's your excuse?"

Marti started to fidget.

"I've met someone." She all but whispered. Casey started to smile. "But you can't tell any of the family, because I haven't told them."

Casey sat forward. "Come on then…give. I want name, age, occupation, social security number…"

"Case-y…" Marti complained. Casey laughed.

"Come on Smarti. You're dying to tell someone."

Marti looked up at her.

"Okay, but only because…" she shifted uncomfortably. "…because he comes from London and you'll probably meet him while I'm staying here."

"Interesting. Did you meet him on your course?"

Marti blushed. "Yes. We were partnered together for an assignment over the vacation. Nothing that required meeting or anything because it was all supposed to be over the internet. But, we got talking and we got on well and…a few weeks ago we decided to meet up. I mean, I knew what he looked like of course, I'd seen him in lectures but…"

"And?"

"He came to Toronto and we…hit it off."

Casey put down her knife and fork. "Is this the kind of "hit it off" that I need to email Edwin about or…"

"NO! You can't tell Ed! He'll freak out about it, or worse he'll tell dad. And Simon…he's a bit shy. You know how the Venturis get about boyfriends. They always think they need to stick their noses in."

"Oh yeah. I'll never forget that time that Lizzie decided to date a guy at university and Edwin spent the week sleeping on the floor outside her dorm room to make sure the guy didn't stay the night."

Marti perked up. "It was all very well until the door to the room opened and he had been lying outside the room belonging to the quarterback for the women's football team and she thought he was stalking her. Yeah I remember."

They both chuckled.

"So…is it serious?" Casey asked pointedly. Marti nodded.

"We're spending hours on the phone to each other every day. He's constantly texting me. Casey, I've never felt like this about a guy before and you know how I am about dating."

Marti had dated a lot in high school…but none of them made it past the second date – or second base. She had confided in Casey that it was because she didn't feel emotionally stable, that Derek's death had switched off the balance mechanism in her heart and head. It had been the night where they had both opened up about how much Derek's death had cost them. It had been the night that they both cried.

"Are you sleeping with him?" Casey asked putting on her best doctor's voice – understanding in a dispassionate way. Not at all like an elder sister.

"Not yet." Marti said. "I'm still a…"

Casey nodded. "Do you want to talk to me as a sister or as a doctor?" She asked.

"Both."

Casey took a deep breath.

"Okay. But I suggest we don't do this here. I'll tell you what. Let's get a large bottle of wine tonight and pizza, and a ridiculous chick flick. Before we open the wine, you can talk to me as a doctor and we'll set you up with birth control because even if you don't _resolve_ anything with Simon for years it doesn't do any harm to be prepared. And then, when all the boring sensible stuff is out of the way, we'll open the bottle of wine and you can ask me any of the questions you want answers to that only a sister can tell you. How does that sound?"  
"You're an awesome sister, Casey." Marti said happily.

"Just do me one favour, Marti." Casey said seriously.

"Anything."

"Give me a heads up before Ed finds out I prescribed you contraceptives. I'll need a head start."

* * *

**AN: The thing about the insurance policy happened to me. I initially studied Biology at university and we were informed on our first day that it would be a good idea to take out life insurance because of the chemicals and equipment we would be using during the course. I can totally see universities requiring their high-impact sportspeople needing the same.**


	8. Revelations

**AN: For someone who sounds like she could do with something to cheer her up!**

**

* * *

**

It was going to be a long old day for Mikey Essen. It started when he was called into the office for a ridiculously early meeting that was equally ridiculously unnecessary.

He resented it _because_ it was unnecessary but mainly he resented the early start because he had been up till late "chatting" to Casey.

He had been doing that a lot lately.

He knew he should be concerned about that fact, but at 6.15am it was the last thing that he had energy to do. Instead, he rolled himself out of bed in his _own_ apartment, negotiated his way across the minefield that was his bedroom floor and headed for the shower. Exactly ten minutes later he emerged, smelling sweeter, glistening slightly from the residual water - his hair darkened with the damp.

He dressed in underwear, jeans and a t-shirt; his body looked more toned than it had when he had known Casey. After running his hands through his drying hair, he strapped his holster to his shoulders, checked the chambers of his gun before he slipped the weapon firmly into place.

Traffic in Ottawa was light because it was so early. Mikey manoeuvred the silver sports car he had bought with last year's bonus through the city streets to the less than salubrious part of town where his non-descript office was housed.

Down a back street in the heart of the city, he turned into an underground parking garage, nodded to the beefy-looking security guard in his little lookout post and swiped his ID through the appropriate slot. The enormous roll door clanged into life and so did the guard, no longer passive, but actively scanning the street outside whilst the entrance to the underground cavern was revealed. It might look like the basement parking lot of a supermarket but the people working within the confines of this building were more likely to interrogate you than pack your groceries.

Mikey parked his car and slid from the driver's seat with a practised ease, despite the bucket seats.

"I don't know how you drive that thing around here. I'd be too worried someone was going to total it." A voice said from across the lot. Mikey looked up and grinned at the newcomer, a short guy with muscles that threatened to break their way through his straining t-shirt.

"That's coz you're a collision magnet. How many fleet cars have you totalled so far this year? Three or was it four?"  
"It was two, asshole. And the second one was your damn fault. If you hadn't spilt your fucking coffee in my lap…"

"You took the corner on two wheels, while I was sipping my drink Jerkoff, what the fuck did you think was going to happen?"

They grinned at each other.

"You look like shit, Mikey. What did you do last night? Sit up watching porn till the cock crowed?"

"Hey Jazz! Don't project your bad habits onto me! I was conversing."

The other guy laughed. "Conversing? With the toilet bowl? Or did you finally get your sorry ass together and pull that chick from Accounting?"

"Neither. I was talking with an old friend."  
Jazz smirked. "Jeez hasn't she got a puncture yet? You know I once thought about getting a doll like her but I'm allergic to latex."

"Ha ha." Mikey said, rolling his eyes and changing the subject. He'd slipped up mentioning Casey, but she was on his mind, so it was instinctive to talk about her. "You in for this department meeting shit?" he asked as they walked toward the elevator together.

"Yeah. Got to be a biggy if they're pulling you and me in."

"I got a twenty says it's drugs." Mikey punched the button marked '5'.

"Only coz you want the lead. I think it's more likely to be cross-border GTA."

"Why the hell would they call me in on a GTA?"

Jazz shrugged. "Maybe they need your Detroit connections."

Mikey shook his head. "Unlikely. Your guys have got their own sources. So you in?" Jazz nodded. Mikey smiled "…twenty?"

"Make it fifty and you got a deal." Jazz said matching the grin.

Mikey raised his eyebrow. "A fool and his money…"

"You still owe me for the whole Vancouver crap."

"No. I said it was a wild-goose chase and you didn't believe me."

"For the last fucking time, it was _not_ a fucking goose chase!"

"Jazz, I spent four days sitting in a lousy apartment staring at four walls. For what? The good of my health?"  
"Probably. You could use the rest. You work too hard."

The elevator doors opened onto a large lobby which they crossed in silence. Jazz punched a code into the pad next to one of the door leading out of the large space and when it clicked, Mikey pushed the door open.

The contrast with the quiet of the lobby was stark. This new space was ten times the size and buzzing with people milling around, shouting orders and clearly busy. The two guys didn't bat an eyelid so this was evidently something they were used to. Crossing the room, they made for the far corner where there were a number of smaller offices. They knocked on one particular door and entered.

* * *

Casey slipped the blood pressure cuff from Marti's arm. "…of course, because you are family I'm only allowed to prescribe you an emergency dose for one month, but I'll give Dr Gavin a call and ask him to update your file and to put you on a repeat. At least you didn't need to go through all the rest of it with him."

Marti nodded her assent.

"Remember what I said about sickness and other medication affecting them, and use a condom for at least a week to make sure that you're covered…oh and Smarts? You can stop taking those bullet-like pills for your periods. This will sort them out too."

"Oh thank god for that!" Casey's youngest sister said. "You have no idea how much I loathe those tablets."

"So. On to the fun stuff. Shall we break out the pizza and the wine?" Casey asked.

"And the questions?"

"And the questions."

They were a couple of glasses, half a pizza and several conservative questions in before Marti laid the biggy on Casey.

"So when did you start having sex? Which of them was the lucky guy?"

Marti had been around for much of Casey's "dating life" beginning with those early days when she dated Sam. She had been young though and had never seen anything that led her to believe that Casey was having sex with any of them.

Casey took a sip of her wine. "Before I answer, I want a cast iron guarantee that this goes no further than this room, okay?"  
Marti nodded. Casey pulled at the rug she was sitting on.

"I have no idea who I lost my virginity to. I was so drunk I never got his name." Casey blurted.

Marti was stunned; so stunned she said nothing and Casey continued.

"It was about six months after Derek died. I wasn't handling the grief very well."  
"I remember." Marti was still reeling from Casey's confession.

"The girls I lived with thought it was a good idea to take me out and get me drunk. After a few drinks I didn't even know my name let alone anyone else's. I know I used a condom, and I can still picture his face, but…as to who he was? Nada." Casey took a breath. "I was so angry with Derek and I knew he would have hated me doing it…so I did it. A sort of royal fuck you!"

"Oh Casey." It wasn't disappointment in Marti's voice and Casey loved her for that. But there was a degree of… pity? Marti had been the first person she had admitted this to.

"I know. It was a stupid thing to do. I took myself off to the sexual health unit the next day for all the tests. And I get tested every six months. But it's been seven years. Anything nasty should have shown up by now. And that is the one and only time I've had sex."

"Oh."

"Yes…oh. So really, I can't be very forthcoming…although I believe there wasn't much I didn't do that night. I guess I can answer some questions."

"Did it hurt?"

"I was too drunk to notice."

Marti was silent.

"Say something." Casey urged her.

"It's like listening to someone else's story coming from your lips. I just…that wasn't you, Casey."

"I know. I wasn't me…for a while. If I hadn't been so determined to go into trauma medicine I never would have made it through my degree. Are you disappointed in me?"

Marti shook her head. "No. But I wouldn't tell Nora if I were you."

Casey ran her fingers through her hair. "Oh god! Can you imagine her reaction?"

"And I think it's a probably best that Derek isn't around to hear this." Marti said. "It would have hurt him very badly."

The words were strange to Casey. She expected Marti to say that Derek would have been angry…not hurt.

Marti noticed her frown. She took a deep sip of her wine.

"He cared about you very much Casey. I know you think he didn't but he always did. He told me once that he respected the way you stood up to him when not many people did. He liked the fact you called him out on his failings. He saw you as his conscience. In his own way, he loved you."

Tears welled in Casey's eyes and she drained the small amount of wine in her glass. Marti wordlessly knelt up and grabbed the wine bottle to refill the glass.

"He told me, you know. About the last few days before he died. He told me he had made his peace with you and that I should "be Casey's friend, Smarts. You're both important to me and I need to know that you have each other's backs." And then the next day he was dead." Marti sighed. "I've not been a great sister to you since he died."

"I've been a worse sister to you, and you have the excuse of youth, Marti." Casey said at last. "You were so young."

"On paper. I always knew he cared about you. It was obvious to me."

"How?" Casey asked in disbelief.

Marti smiled. "Because you diverted his attention from me. I know I was an irritating little girl to him at times, but we were close. In many ways I was closer to him than Edwin. And then you came along and suddenly there was someone in the family he noticed more than me. I got upset once and he made a joke of it and said I was his Smarti princess. Eventually I grew to love you too – Although for me it was as a sister."

"Derek loved me as a sister." Casey stated.

"Casey…I'm not six any more. Credit me with a bit of sense."

Casey looked surprised but not shocked.

She sighed. "I used to think I hated him, it took a while to realise I didn't. But it took his death for me to realise that I cared about him. For a long time I wished I had known before he was gone, but…what would that have achieved? We'd never have said anything or acted on it. And there is a big difference between caring about someone and wanting to be with them."

"I know." Marti squeezed Casey's hand. "Shall we talk about something else? I think we've both cried enough over this."

"Sure." Casey said clearing her throat. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Oral sex…have you done it?"

Casey almost dropped her glass in shock.

Between them, Casey and Marti had managed to put away just over a bottle of wine. They had put the world to rights and discussed the sexual revolution. For the first time ever, they had giggled their way through the evening and Casey realised that at her age, a nine-year age gap with her sister was no longer a big deal. While Casey wasn't looking, her youngest sister grew up.

About eleven her cell phone vibrated and when she checked it she saw that it was Mikey.

"You're quiet. Are you okay? How's Marti?"  
Casey glanced across the room at her sister, sprawled on the sofa, her tartan legs propped up on the arms, her hand clasping the empty wine bottle and her eyes tightly closed as she snored. Not entirely sure why she did it, Casey raised her cell and snapped a shot of the rag-head student. Then she logged on to Facebook and sent it to Mikey.

While she waited for a response, she lightly shook Marti's arm and persuaded her to go to her room. Marti kissed her cheek affectionately and took herself off, murmuring her thanks for the advice and support.

Casey locked up and made her own way to bed aware that her phone was vibrating violently in her pocket.

* * *

About the same time that Marti and Casey opened the bottle of wine, Mikey was still in the office. The earlier meeting had been to inform him and Jazz that there was a new investigation being opened – and they were both wrong - it was about drugs _and_ fast cars. They were looking to take out a drugs lord.

The new case dumped a whole load of extra work on the entire office and Mikey found himself taking copious notes even though that wasn't his normal M.O. At the end of the meeting, now knowing his new targets, he was eager to get on with it, professionalism wiping all thoughts of Casey from his mind.

Well at least that was what he was telling himself.

Mikey stood to leave with everyone else, but his boss a rotund man in his late 50s known less than affectionately as "Spike", stopped him.

"Mikey. Hold off! I need to talk to you."

Mikey stopped and turned back. "Sure."

Jazz clapped him on the back. "I'll see you in a sec. I'm gonna go run those plates."

The door closed behind his back and Mikey watched as Spike left his chair and came to perch on the front of the desk instead.

"Mikey…" he began.

"Whatever it is, I didn't fucking do it." Mikey said, jocularly, knowing that the reality was that if he _had_ done anything, it wouldn't have got back to Spike _yet._

"You never could resist behaving like an errant teenager could you?"

"Cut the crap boss. What's up?"

Spike ran his chubby fingers through close cropped greying hair.

"It's that time again, Mikey."  
"No…really?" Mikey said with mock surprise. "And there was me thinking it was only last week."

"Quit being a wise-guy and just tell me you'll go."

Mikey knew he was talking about his annual psych evaluation.

He took a deep breath. "It's a waste of fucking time, Spike."

Spike shook his head. "I know. But the guys upstairs?…they listen to the psych department more than they listen to me. After that fiasco five years where Rocco went berserk with an AK47 in that shopping mall, anyone with any kind of history has to go through this."

"Rocco had no fucking history. He was just nuts."

Spike chuckled. "You and I both know that. The guys upstairs…they think you're a ticking time bomb."

"Oh…? What do they think I'm going to do? Attack the queen the next time she pays a call? Or maybe cross a border to Obama?"

"I think they think you might go after the son-of-a-bitch who took away your life, _D_."

Mikey narrowed his eyes at Spike. It had been a long time since anyone had used _that_ nickname.

"Believe me, boss, the thought is tempting. However, I take out him, his family takes out mine. I'm not stupid. One death doesn't stop the rot."

Spike was taken aback. "That's a very balanced view. You realise they won't believe you if you use it in your psych eval."

"That's why I don't say it to them. Sure I'd like to fuck with the asshole who killed me off, but I love my family more than that. So long as they are safe, the status quo stays as it is." He fixed his eyes on Spike's. "They _are_ safe aren't they?" he asked pointedly. "There's nothing you're holding back on me?"

Spike shook his head firmly and then he fixed Mikey with his own eyes. "Just so long as you aren't holding out on me, _Derek_." He mouthed the last word rather than speak it. Both of them knew that there was always a chance the office was bugged – although it was swept twice a day.

Derek/Mikey looked at Spike, his face impassive but his mind whirling. _Shit! He knows I'm talking to Casey._

"What time and when?" Derek asked, trying to divert his boss' attention back to the original subject.

"Friday 9.30am…next door." Spike said. Derek stood up to go, but Spike put a hand on his arm. "I know why you're doing it." He said quietly. "Just…be careful. I found out because I'm monitoring her…not you."


	9. Teddy Bear

It was still early in the day when Mikey/Derek texted Casey to wish her a good morning. He should be thinking about the new case, and he largely was, but after he left Spike's office knowing that Spike had been monitoring Casey, he needed the reassurance that she – and the rest of his family - was still okay. The knowledge that his boss was watching her communications concerned him. If Spike knew about her, then who else did?

Casey's reply to his text said she was fine, but nervous because Marti was coming over to stay with her. And this piece of news was a massive shock to Derek. He had asked Marti to look after Casey the day before his "death" and he knew that she would, but for some reason he just couldn't get his head around the fact that his baby sister was old enough to pay a visit to Casey without his parents. Marti was still very much a twelve year old girl in his eyes – and in his head!

Derek reached his own desk and found a cup of coffee waiting for him. It would be a decent cup of coffee because, following open rebellion in the office, the department management had invested in a capsule coffee maker and not even Jazz could screw it up. Derek had not really been a coffee drinker at home, but since he joined the department he found that it was either drink coffee or take up smoking and he was still enough of a sportsman that he couldn't bring himself to take up tobacco.

"What did he haul you over the coals for this time?" Jazz asked as Derek flopped into the chair. Jazz, like the rest of the department didn't know anything about Derek's background – and they certainly didn't know his real name. To them he was always "Mikey". Department policy was to not ask questions of one another. So if someone volunteered that they were married with kids, that was fine, but if you asked another team member what their childhood was like you'd likely get called in to face Spike. No one asked questions. It was a mistake you just didn't make.

Sometimes, Derek was quietly curious. Given his own circumstances, what other secrets lurked in the combined histories of his department?

Jazz was sitting at the desk opposite Derek's, his legs stretched out in front of his and his feet resting on the desk's surface.

"He didn't haul me over the coals about anything. It's time for my annual psych review." Derek replied logging on to his desktop.

"Ouch! You mean it's time for some one-to-one time with little Miss Sunshine?"

The nickname was ironic. The fifty-something woman concerned would have looked just right as a James Bond henchman.

"Yeah."

"I had mine three months ago."

"Any tips?"  
"Yeah…run like hell! She's a ball-gnasher."

"I think I remember." Derek said vaguely.

Jazz eyed him noticing that something was slightly off about his friend. "You okay?"  
"Why?"

"Like I said earlier, you look like you aren't sleeping and whatever Spike said to you in there has you worried. They were only kidding last year you know? The strait-jacket isn't on order."

Derek ignored the humour. "I told you. I stayed up late chatting to an old friend."

"A female old friend?" Jazz sat forward, sensing there was more to this.

Derek smirked. "So they tell me but I've yet to see the proof."

"She sounds interesting."

"Like you wouldn't believe."

"When do I get to meet her?" Jazz and Derek were friends outside of work. They might not talk about the past but they did share the present.  
Derek's face turned serious as the ever-recurring shadow of his past was cast over their friendship. "You don't. She's not local. Anyway…what did you get back on those vehicle plates?"

Jazz sighed, recognising that he wasn't going to get any more out of Derek. He reached across to his in-tray and tossed Derek a piece of paper.

"See for yourself."

* * *

It was late when Derek contemplated returning to his apartment. They had made a little progress with the investigation but nothing that warranted pulling an all-nighter. Most of the office was in darkness with just the skeleton crew left – and Derek and Jazz. Derek stretched and rubbed at his face roughly.

"Time to call it a night, methinks." He said. Jazz nodded, yawning.

"You aren't going to spend all night communing again are you?" he asked, standing up.

Derek chuckled. "Nah. She's got a visitor for a few days. I'm going home and straight to bed." He also stood up as his phone began to vibrate. Derek pulled it from his jeans pocket, unlocked the password and glanced at the screen.

There was a Facebook message from Casey that said simply "Marti" with an attachment underneath. He manoeuvred his ball cursor to the link and clicked.

_What the fuck?_

* * *

Casey waited until she was in her room before she looked at her blackberry. Her phone had vibrated several times and now she could see there was a series of messages:

"_What the fuck?"_ was the first.

"_Please tell me that isn't Marti"_ was the second.

Followed swiftly by: _"That is Marti isn't it?"_

And then, _"What the hell happened to her hair? Is that an empty wine bottle? What the fuck is she doing with alcohol?"_

Casey smiled, sitting down on her bed and typed a reply.

"Yes it is Marti. Her hair is an "expression of her love of all things organic". Yes, it is a wine bottle. She's a nineteen year old student, Mikey. It's a course requirement that you drink."

She grinned to herself at his "concern" and started getting herself ready for bed.

The reply took very little time. "What kind of quack doctor do you call yourself letting Marti drink?"

She rolled her eyes, but had to admit she was a little annoyed at his comment.

"I'm not a doctor tonight, I'm her elder sister. And there is nothing wrong with two legal _adults_ sharing a bottle of wine and a pizza in the safe environment of their home. Why are you over-reacting anyway?"

Derek scoffed, and Jazz who was watching Derek pace the office with amusement chuckled. "I'm not over reacting. And it's _step_-sister." _Oh no Casey! We are not having the "same difference" discussion yet again._

"Over-reacting much! And Marti _is_ my sister, Mikey. The four extra letters aren't important."

Casey was definite in her answer. She loved Marti as much as she loved Lizzie. She loved Edwin as much as she loved Robbie. The only fly in the ointment had only ever been Derek. Derek was definitely different.

Mikey was equally adamant. "They're important to me. What the hell would Derek say?" Derek definitely has a lot to say about the state of his youngest sister. How the hell did they let this happen?

Casey laughed. "She's fine. She's well-adjusted and studying hard. Derek would be proud of her…once he got over the shock."  
Shock was only the half of it!

"Do Nora and George know about this?"

"They're comfortable with it, Mikey. The only thing that freaked George out was the nose stud, but even he came round about that when he saw how small it is."  
"NOSE STUD!"

Derek said the words out loud and Jazz dropped the pencil he was twisting in his fingers in shock.

"You sound like George." Casey joked.  
"What happened to Casey, the voice of reason? Casey, the sensible one? Casey "I'd never let my baby sister get her nose pierced or drunk?""

Casey shrugged to her self and typed "I grew up too. Life does that to you."

Derek was in a snarky mood. "So your lame-ass step-brother gets killed. Did _you_ run out and get a piercing? Or maybe a tatt? Jeez what were you and her family thinking of?"

He might only be typing the words but his mood was abundantly clear.

"No. I went out, got drunk and traded my v-card with a guy whose name I never knew, just so that I could piss my dead stepbrother off! My decision not yours. Just the same as Marti has the right to live her life the way she wants to. What the hell gives you the right to have an opinion? If you're going to judge you can just fuck off!"

* * *

Clang! Bang! Tinkle [curse]. Marti looked up from her seat on the couch the following morning, the magazine she was reading falling into her lap.

"Are you sure I can't do anything to help?" She called over the back of the couch towards the kitchen.

"I'm fine!" Casey said in a tone that said she was anything but. Marti swung her feet round, stood up and made her way into the kitchen. When she got there she expected to see chaos and something clearly wrong, but the lunch was cooking nicely and the kitchen looked immaculate. The problem, it appeared, was with Casey.

"Want to talk about it?" Marti asked, leaning against the door post.

"No." Was the short reply.

Marti moved further into the room. "Was it something I did?" she asked looking like a six year old girl again which pulled at Casey's heart strings. She sighed.

"No. Of course not. It's just…why are guy's such ass-holes?"

Marti laughed, relieved that this was something from normal Casey-land…well, the "normal" of her childhood anyway.

"I read an article once that said that the centre of gravity in a woman was her head and her venting point was her mouth. The centre of gravity in a man is his pelvis and his venting point…"

Casey held up a hand. "I get the idea."

Marti leaned against the work surface. "A guy, Casey?"

"Yes. You know… Two legs, big head, small brain."

They both giggled.

"Yes. But a guy in your life again?" It had been many years since Marti had heard Casey talk about a guy other than Derek. (And Sam, but Sam didn't count).

"I've met this guy…" Casey started. Marti squealed and grabbing her by the hand dragged her back into the living room. She forced Casey to sit on the couch.

"Give! Now! I want details."

Her sister sighed. "There's not a lot to tell, and you've got the wrong end of the stick."  
"I'll be the judge of that." Marti said confidently. "Now…how did you meet?"  
"Actually, we haven't…that is to say we haven't met this time…although I can't remember…I don't know."

_Normal service is resumed. Casey is her old confused self again._ Marti thought.

"Just start at the beginning." She advised.

So Casey started the tale of Mikey Essen and Facebook, and Marti listened without interrupting. Even when Casey reached the point about telling him to "fuck off" and how he had not only not replied, but she hadn't contacted him either, Marti's face merely remained thoughtful.

Eventually, this irked Casey.

"Say something." She begged. "Am I being a stupid idiot spending hours talking to some guy just because he was a friend of Derek's?"

Marti still looked distracted.

"I used to have a teddy bear called Mikey." She murmured.

Casey frowned. "A what?"

"A little "Leaf's" bear Derek bought me for my second birthday. I loved it to pieces, literally, until one day we were out and about and I lost him. They bought me a new one but it wasn't the same. I cried buckets over him."

"How funny!" Casey commented. "Mikey's profile picture is a Leaf's bear."

Marti looked up at her sharply, but Casey was back to complaining about the duplicitous nature of irritating men who expect every girl to be as pure and wholesome as the driven snow when they meet them, and quickly discard them when they are not.

Later as an exhausted Casey, who hadn't slept all night, napped Marti borrowed her laptop. Marti had been too young for Facebook at its height, so she didn't possess an account. She quickly created one and once logged in went to Derek Venturi's profile. Derek had left his account permissions to allow everyone access to his information so even though she wasn't a "friend" she had no problem looking at his pages. Derek's youngest sister read down her dead brother's wall, noting the early interactions between Casey and Mikey Essen. She also read some of Casey's earlier pre-Mikey posts with a heavy heart.

Finally, when she had read everything she could and attempted to read the information on Mikey Essen's profile which was heavily restricted, she eventually sent him a Friend Request.

And she attached a message.

"She didn't sleep last night. Flowers are the best way to apologise.

Flowers won't work on me though. I only accept explanations…in FULL."


	10. Hard Choices

It was Monday and this time it was Marti bashing the hell out of frying pans.

"I thought I'd make you eggs before you go to work." She explained to Casey.

Her sister grinned knowingly. "And here was me thinking some guy had peed you off."

Marti shrugged and muttered something about big heads and small brains.

"You're in a better mood." She stated in an accusatory tone to Casey who was humming her arms deep in soap suds washing up the previous night's dishes.

"Hmm. I am. I've decided that I'm done with internet friendships. I'm sticking to the real sort of friend…and sister."

Marti grinned. "Glad to hear it. Do you want to do something tonight? Celebrate our new "fuck 'em" resolution?"

Casey laughed. "Sure. Shall we brave a club? If you don't mind going with an oldie."

"Oh god! Can I live it down?" Marti replied with a grin.

Casey chuckled. "There's one for the more discerning clientele opened up which seems popular with my colleagues. We could give that a go?"

"Okay. Do I need to wear my Tena pads and my girdle?"  
Casey splashed Marti with the dirty washing up water. "I'm not that old, thank you very much!"

They launched into a drying cloth verses soap-suds battle which only finished when the doorbell rang.

"Can you get that?" Casey asked. "I'm elbow-deep in water."  
Marti nodded, making her way to the front door and opening it; in front of her stood the building superintendent. He was holding a massive bouquet of white roses.

"Is Miss McDonald in?" He asked, surprised to see Marti.

"Sure. And you are?"  
"The Super." The older guy said. "These came for her. I've signed for them and I thought I'd bring them straight up."  
Marti glanced at the flowers and chuckled to herself. _He_ might well be ignoring _her_ message, but at least he listened to the bit about the flowers.

"Sis! It's for you!" She turned back and hollered. A short time later, Casey appeared wiping her hands.

"Who is it? Oh! Nigel!" She exclaimed.

"These came for you." He said quickly before she got the wrong idea. Nigel was lonely and somewhat enamoured of Casey, but he wasn't a freak. He knew he stood no chance and he was embarrassed that he had to deliver what was obviously a very personal gift from another man.

"For me?" Casey asked in surprise, taking them from Nigel. He nodded and turning left quickly.

Marti scoffed.

"Creep!" She said under her breath as Casey closed the front door.

"Marti! I'm sure Nigel is just being helpful." She reassured her sister who snorted again.

"I didn't mean _him_! I meant your lame-ass secret admirer."

Casey blushed. "He's not my secret admirer. He's just a friend. I've no idea where he got my address from."  
"But he is a lame-ass. And I thought you said you had had enough of internet friendships?"

Casey blushed. "The flowers are beautiful, Marti." She protested. Marti laughed.

"I know. And if they were addressed to me I think I might rethink my position too. What does the card say?"

The card was in a tiny envelope which Casey removed from its placeholder and opened.

"It says, "I'm very sorry."" She quoted and smiled.

"So it would appear. That won't have been a cheap arrangement."

"White roses mean pure love, don't they? Purity and unity." Casey was positively glowing and Marti was cursing Derek for not just picking some nice yellow ones instead.

Casey laid the arrangement on the living room table and picked up her laptop.

"I need to say thank you." She said by way of explanation.

Marti watched her, slightly concerned at the cause of the spark which she now saw in her "sister". The spark was caused by Marti's own brother's attention. Marti's concern wasn't that she didn't think that Casey and Derek should be together. She had contemplated that often as a child when the adult taboos didn't matter to her and she was convinced she herself would marry her own father! When she had grown and Derek was dead, Marti had realised that actually there had been nothing legally standing between her two siblings being together. She had often wondered what might have happened if Derek hadn't died.

No, Marti's issues with Casey's excitement over Derek's attention were that Casey didn't know it was Derek, Marti still did not know why her brother was alive, and the fact that he hadn't replied to _her_ message gave her a sense of foreboding.

Casey looked up from her laptop with a frown on her face.

"That's odd." She commented, breaking into Marti's thoughts.

"What is?"

"Mikey's name has disappeared from all his Facebook entries. It just says A Facebook user beside his words."

Marti moved quickly across the room as Casey searched the application for "Mikey Essen". It came back with no exact matches.

Her sister slid the laptop gently from Casey's fingers, turned it towards herself and started to type something into Google.

"Meaning of white roses." Casey repeated reading Marti's words from the screen.

The search brought back many results and Marti clicked on the first one.

Casey had been right. There was mention of Purity and True Love and Unity. But, Marti read the final lines with a sickening in her heart.

"They can symbolise new beginnings or be a sign of farewell."

* * *

_Thirty three hours earlier._

"If you throw that cell phone and break it, you'll regret it." Jazz said from his seat, amusement written across his face.

"What?" Derek asked distractedly.

"I said…never mind." Jazz finished. "I'm off. See you in the morning?"  
"Sure. You want me to pick you up?"

Jazz looked at Derek unsure if he was serious or paying attention.

"Really?" He asked. Derek nodded. Jazz nodded. "Fine. 7.30am?"  
"Okay. I'll be there." Derek returned to his distracted state.

"I'll text you to remind you."  
"No. I'll remember."

Derek opened the door to his apartment with his normal care and attention. He might have a lot on his mind at the moment, but he was an expert at pushing that to one side when it came to matters of his own personal safety – like checking to make sure no one had entered his apartment while he was at work.

He punched the code into the keypad beside the front door, twisted his high security metal key in the lock and turned the handle.

The apartment was its usual dark, quiet self.

Derek closed and locked the door behind him and then walked into the kitchen to place his bag of groceries on the countertop. He took a glass from a cupboard and a bottle of Scotch from the side and poured himself a decent measure. Only then did he relax and even then the anger remained.

Derek Venturi was pissed. He was so angry it was all he could do not to smash the glass in his hand against the wall. He wanted to take someone and wring his anger out of their necks…but that wasn't possible since the only person who he could really blame was himself.

He had believed them when they said it was for the best. He had let them persuade him that his family would be left alone and unharmed if he "died".

Instead, he had found out that his actions had harmed his family in a way that was almost worse than them being attacked. HE had caused them to act out of character. He had permanently changed their lives and he could not say that it was for the better: Marti was walking around looking like something out of "Hair" (he supposed he should be grateful that she was wearing clothes!) and Casey…God! He wasn't sure he expected her to be a virgin, but to hear how he was the reason why she gave it up so easily was more than he could bear.

He wondered what horrors he had perpetuated on the rest of the family…and his friends.

And then there was the argument; to read Casey's words so full of vitriol and curse. Derek wasn't a stranger to foul language, but to see Casey use words in print he just couldn't believe she would ever say in real life…

He leaned back against the kitchen counter and closed his eyes. Not only had he messed things up for her _then_, but he had upset her again now. _Fuck!_

He was a screw up!

Derek drained his glass, thumping it onto the countertop and glanced at the groceries. He couldn't be bothered to go to the effort of microwaving a ready meal, so he tossed the food into the fridge, flicked off the kitchen light and took himself to bed.

* * *

Jazz was chirpy the next morning as he climbed into the car. Derek was not.

"Late night sexting again?" Jazz guessed. Derek glared at him. The former held up his hands in defence. "Sorry. I'll just shut up."  
Derek sighed. Jazz was a good friend and Derek didn't have many of those. At school he had been popular and enjoyed being around other people – part of the crowd. It had been the same at university, wherever Derek went people followed.

For the last seven years, however, he had been necessarily solitary. He didn't socialise much, didn't go clubbing at all. There had been the occasional casual girlfriend (who was never allowed to his apartment) but the only other person he had allowed to share any of his downtime was Jazz – and that was because the guy was as solitary as Derek – and he reminded him of the best bits of Sam and Ralph.

"No. _I'm_ sorry." He apologised to his friend. "I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Girl trouble?" Jazz asked, breaking the unspoken rule yet again.

Derek smiled wryly. "It's complicated."

"Is it to do with the texts you received last night?" Jazz asked, bravely pushing Derek for more information.

"Yeah. I annoyed someone. I don't think she'll speak to me again." _And that's probably the best thing for her._ He added silently to himself.

"Flowers, dude. Send her some flowers. They always work. The bigger the bunch the better, ya know, like your dick."

Derek rolled his eyes at his friend and let the subject drop.

They spent the morning chasing up a few leads on the expensive cars which had been connected to the guy they were investigating. They wanted to get as much information on his assets as possible. If they couldn't get him for the big dope stuff, then they would pull an Al Capone on him and get him on tax evasion or something. At this stage of the case, all information was useful information.

By mid-morning, Derek had become almost disconnected from the "Casey" issue, shoving it to the back of his mind with an idea of trying to get an address from somewhere so that he could send her some flowers.

The Casey he knew would like flowers – he actually didn't need Jazz to tell him that.

About eleven am, thoughts of his family came screeching back to the centre-stage when his phone buzzed and he opened the Facebook notification to find Marti's message.

"_She didn't sleep last night. Flowers are the best way to apologise. _

_Flowers won't work on me though. I only accept explanations…in FULL."_

Shit! It didn't take a genius to work out what his little sister meant.

She knew.

He considered what had given it away: the profile picture? His name?

And Derek wondered if Marti had told Casey. Was she now pissed about more than just his intolerance of her life-choices? Was she angry because he had ripped himself from their lives seven years ago – in the most brutal way possible?

Derek made his way to Spike's office and knocked at the door. A gruff "Come in" followed and Derek obeyed.

"S'up?" Spike asked looking up with relief from the badly-written report he was reviewing.

"I need a favour." Derek said fixing his boss' eyes with a pleading look. "I need an address."

"Oh?" Spike sat back, his hands tented in front of him.

Derek was cautious, remembering the bugging situation.

"I need to sever ties again." He said cryptically holding out his cell phone with Marti's message.

Spike read it and sat up suddenly.

"How the hell did…?"

Derek held up a hand. "I screwed up. I should never have…" He let his voice trail away, aware that he couldn't say Casey's name. "If it wasn't the one, I should have known the other would figure it out. I made some fucking stupid mistakes."

"Why do you need the address?"

"I need to end it once and for all." Derek said.

"End it?" Spike asked raising an eyebrow.

"A permanent goodbye."

* * *

About three hours before the flowers arrived at Casey's apartment the following morning, Derek turned into the underground basement of his office building. This time it was so early that even the security guard was surprised to see him. Derek wasn't sleeping very well.

Going into the office early didn't really solve anything that was going on in his mind. He knew he was currently breaking the hearts of the two most important women in his life, and he more than anyone wished it didn't have to be so.

His early arrival did mean that he avoided the traffic; the streets of Ottowa dead even on a weekday morning when the clock reads five am.

And it also gave him a chance to do something that he had neglected for several weeks.

Once his car was safely parked, Derek made for the elevator, but instead of going up he pushed the button for the lower floor and as the elevator car began to move, he slipped his gun from his holster and checked the chambers.

As a kid, Derek had found the idea of guns attractive. He had grown up on the usual diet of gangster movies and revolver-toting good guys. In his teens, the guns had looked almost sensual when he saw them lined up for sale.

He had never expected to be required to use one in anger. He was supposed to be a high-ranking ice hockey star by now, if weaponry entered his life he expected it to be as the hobby of his new millionaire lifestyle.

Instead the piece sitting under his left shoulder hung heavy on a daily basis.

Derek knew more than he had ever believed possible about guns. He knew how to strip and re-build more than thirty types of firearm, he knew the history of Smith-Wesson and Glock - he knew the "kill shots" on an opponent.

And yes, Derek Venturi had taken someone's life with the gun currently resting close to his heart.

None of this was something he was proud of, even if the "Kill" incident was completely above board, legal and had been fully investigated by the appropriate authorities. He still had nightmares about that day, though if he hadn't taken the shot – a textbook "kill" – then Derek Venturi would have died a second more permanent time.

It was this aspect of his life that he hated most…and this aspect of his life that he would fight tooth, nail and himself to keep Casey and Marti away from.

Brushing thoughts of Casey and his little sister from his mind, Derek entered the Firing Range and began his preparations for practice.

As per his own personal habit, the first shot he fired at the paper target was identical to the one that had given him the metal plate in his own head.


	11. Dear Derek

"_Dear Derek,_

_Remember how you once said it wasn't a long journey to drive me insane? I think this email proves it._

_I mean, here I am a grown professional woman (not _that_ kind of "professional" dummass!) in my late twenties. I have a home, I have a very good job, and until this moment in my life I clung to the fact that I might still have my sanity._

_Sadly it appears not. Because I'm emailing a ghost._

_But then who else am I supposed to talk to about this? Who else would understand US? _

_I thought, after seven years without you, I had finally met someone who could challenge me the way you did – and who understood why I grieve for you the way I do. Mikey made me laugh again. He made me remember the good things about our friendship instead of the sight of you dying in my arms. He knew you, and I was starting to think he knew me._

_You see, no one else gets it, despite what they say. Mom is confused because apparently my grief is disproportionate to our relationship. Edwin, too, thinks because he has moved on and learnt to live with the pain then so can I. Even Sam who I suspect still sheds the odd tear over you doesn't really know how this feels. _

_The closest to understanding is Marti and great though she is, when I look at her I feel a fraud._

_We were friends…weren't we?_

_I find it really hard to work out what a friend is these days. Since Mikey disappeared the definition has become even more blurred for me. I know he and I knew each other a very short time but like love, I thought in a friendship time frames don't count. Clearly I was wrong…_

_Friends don't just dump organic matter on you…it might have looked like roses but it still smelled like… (I'm not using that word. My language is worse these days I'll admit, but this is supposed to be a considered letter, not a rant.)_

_It appears whatever it was that I thought was building with Mikey, it didn't matter to him. The trouble is those brief few days that we were "communicating" changed me. I got used to sharing things with him that I don't share with anyone else. I realised how I need to talk about the things that affect me the most. I need to unload…the bizarre way I used to unload on you when you were still here._

_It's been a month since Mikey checked out on our "companionship" and things have happened and I've changed…and I need to talk to someone about them._

_Mikey isn't here, and neither are you. Your email address is though and I never knew his, so for now your email will have to do._

_So here goes:_

_I'll start with the biggy…I lost a patient today. I know if you were here you'd make some silly remark about that being careless of me – and I know that I should be able to look at things as simply as that. But you know me…I can't. You used to accuse me of over-thinking things and I still do. I don't see the child with massive blunt force trauma to the head because they were involved in a hit and run. Instead I see the little toddler running around with his family – and then I see the family pet waiting on the porch for his best friend to return to play. I see the mother pulling damp clothes from the washer that no child will ever wear again. I see…_

_You get the picture._

_And with every loss, I see you. I remember being the person waiting for news in the Next-of-Kin room. I remember your grip loosening on my bloodied hand in the helicopter. I remember the last time I saw you._

_It hurts, Derek._

_Usually, when I have to give the bad news to a family I have to go somewhere afterwards and vomit. It doesn't matter what sex or age the person is their death still makes me sick to the stomach. But, today was different. Today, I made the decision to sneak away and write to you instead._

_So that is what I am doing. I am holed up in the staff room emailing my dead brother to stop myself from vomiting. _

_Funny, I once joked that you made me sick…and now I need you to _stop_ me being sick._

_You used to think you were invincible – that you'd get away with everything and even cheat death. Towards the end I think even I began to believe it; to believe that you were the exception to every rule including the one that says everyone must die._

_You were wrong…we both were."_

Casey felt the pager in her pocket vibrate and sighed. They needed her back on the floor and inward contemplation would have to wait. She pressed Send on her phone and stood up from the couch she had been perched on. And then straightening her clothes she made for the door.

Steven was by the nurses' station.

"You okay?" He asked, catching Casey wiping away a tiny tear. Typical! When she's running off to vomit and blow snot everywhere no one notices. When she's held it together, suddenly it's obvious.

"Yes. I'm fine."

"The kid didn't make it then?" Steven asked. Casey shook her head.

She sighed. "Let's hope they get the asshole who doesn't know to slow down in the rain."

"The family have been informed?"

"Yeah." Casey said simply. "What's up next?"

"Pregnant woman in room four with loss of feeling on one side of her body. You want it?"  
"It's probably just a migraine but I guess we'd better get neurology down here for a consult. Sure I'll take it."

Casey moved on and her work continued.

* * *

The rain was cool, persistent and made his clothes cling to him like a second skin. Even his leather jacket had darkened in colour where the constant moisture had soaked in. Derek combed his fingers through his hair and a fresh stream of water ran down his back. In the tight pocket of his jeans he felt his cell phone vibrate but he didn't pull the device free.

Jazz walked across the waste-ground towards him. He too looked like a drowned rat.

"No sign?" Derek asked.

Jazz shook his head. "Not in that building." He jerked his head towards one of the rundown shacks that littered the rough ground. "What about yours, Mikey?"

Derek also shook his head. "I've got a bad feeling about this."

"Me too. Grubby's normally so punctual."

"OCD about it." Derek said matter-of-fact.

They both looked over to the largest of the ruined buildings, a disused warehouse of three stories, although the roof looked to be long since burnt away, probably because of squatters rather than any accident which befell the building whilst it was still in use.

"I guess we need to bite the bullet." Derek said. "Cover me?" Jazz nodded.

They both reached into their pockets and withdrew their ID shields, clipping them to the waistbands of their jeans.

Derek pulled his firearm from his holster and removed the safety catch.

"I'm going to sweep the building from left to right." He said. "When I've covered the ground floor, I'm going to look for a way up. Follow me where you can, but for fuck's sake check it's not me before you loose that oversized cannon."

"You're just jealous of the size of my piece."

Derek groaned. "Jazz. Will you quit trying to imply you have a bigger penis than me? We're both straight and you're more Dirty Harriet than Harry."

"Did you just call me a pussy?" Jazz looked mock-horrified.

"Yeah. Now do you think we can get out of this goddamn rain?"

They circled the warehouse carefully, both of them holding their guns with confidence. They were here to meet with a co-worker who was currently working undercover. This morning Derek had taken a call from him requesting a meet. He had information.

Freddie "Grubby" Grubb was late. That was never a good sign.

Derek entered the building quickly, slipping in through an open doorway without making a sound. He swung his gun around low, his eyes rapidly sizing up the space he had entered. It was large…cavernous even. The once whitewashed walls had originally contained an assembly line but all the equipment had been stripped out. Occasionally there was a walled enclosure that looked as though it might have contained an office and Derek made a mental note to check those as soon as he was clear on the open space.

It was light inside because the windows along the line of the building were large, and also because when some of the burning roof had fallen from the third floor it had burned through the lower floors too. Here the dim light of a rainy day passed unhindered from roof-level to ground.

The place was eerie, damp and smelled of stale smoke and death.

Behind him, Jazz crept slowly, ghosting Derek's own steps. His jocular manner from earlier had gone. That was one of the things that Derek liked about the guy. He could crack a good joke like the best of them but when the jump-light went on he was deadly serious. He wasn't _too_ serious – but he wasn't a clown either. Derek's days of loving clowns were long gone.

Derek crossed the debris-littered floor and made his way to the first of the "offices". Waiting until Jazz was positioned on the other side of the door he swung himself round into the room and swept his gun on a low arc to every corner of the room.

It was clear.

He exited the room again and jerked his head across to the next one.

They continued like this as they moved along the first level of the building and then made their way to the far end of the building where a door was marked "Fire Exit". Derek guessed and was correct in his assumption that this door led to the flight of stairs down from the higher levels which would have been used in an emergency.

He carefully opened the door and after scoping the stairwell put his foot on the bottom step. The movement dislodged a piece of burnt timber that must have had help to arrive at its current location; perhaps help of the human vagrant variety. The noise as it clattered down the step made both men jump, and when Derek examined the debris, his unease didn't lessen.

Wordlessly, he pointed to the wood and Jazz nodded, his eyes glancing up through the stairwell as his mind came to the same conclusion as Derek.

Someone had been there, and recently. The wood was still smouldering, the rain evidently halting the planned destruction by fire.

Derek didn't get scared, but he was extremely reluctant to move higher up.

Jazz put a finger to his lips and Derek rolled his eyes at him, a wry smile on his own lips. Slowly, and as quietly as he could, Derek kicked the obstructions from the stairs and made his way up.

He stopped after the first flight, his gun trained up the stairs and Jazz ducked behind him and sprinted soundlessly up the next flight. Once he reached that top step, he too froze and Derek darted behind him in the same way.

It took four flights to reach the next level and when they got there, Derek paused and looked questioningly at Jazz. Did they continue upwards or did they enter the second floor?

Jazz pointed to his own chest and jerked a thumb up the stairs. He pointed to Derek and then the door to the rest of the current floor. Derek nodded and Jazz took off up the stairs cautiously but lightly, his eyes flicking quickly around as he went.

Derek opened the door and eased into the room.

This floor was more complicated. It was a series of corridors with smaller offices leading from them. It was going to be harder to search particularly as Derek was now doing the search on his own.

It took him another five minutes to reach the far end, and it would have taken longer had it not been for the missing corner of the floor where the roof had collapsed.

It was in the last room, however, that Derek found Grubby.

When Jazz found Derek, he was vomiting noisily as far away from the body as he could.

"Jesus!" Jazz said. "How bad?"

"Go take a look and tell me you can keep your dinner down. It was all I could do to get out of the room so I didn't disturb the evidence."

Jazz left Derek and went to the other room, when he came back he was pale but didn't appear to have been sick.

"The fucking animals." He said through gritted teeth.

"Tell me about it." Derek said. "I'll call it in."

He pulled his cell from his pocket and flipped it open. He clicked the Make Emergency Call option without needing to unlock the password. When the operator responded, he stated "Priority Call Channel M".

"Connecting you." The Operator replied.

"MX Control." Another voice stated.

"Control this is Charlie Five. We have a code black and it's a bad one."

* * *

Casey was home again. It was 1am and she had just walked in from her shift. Currently, she was living alone once more because Marti had returned to Toronto, but after Christmas her sister would be moving in for the duration of her internship. Her interview had been successful.

Casey was secretly pleased. They had got on really well for that one week that they had already shared the apartment. It was nice to have the sleepy face peer around her door when she got home late. "Just checking you're in one piece." Marti would say and at that time of the night all she needed from Casey was a nod. It was easy. Peaceful.

She could do with Marti and her easy karma now. It had been a bad day, although she was rather proud of the fact that she had managed to avoid throwing up. The fact that her email to Derek meant she had crossed a line and was now bobbing up against insanity was beside the point.

Tonight she had a rare glass of wine and a warmed up plate of Casey casserole. It was comfort food because she needed it. Comfort that is.

She contemplated continuing her soliloquy to Derek's email account, but decided that she would only allow herself one update per week. Otherwise she might fill his inbox up too quickly and as there was no one there to clear it out, at some point even Derek Venturi would stop listening.

Instead, she googled a "famous" actor one of her younger patients had mentioned today. Apparently, Casey was "old" because she admitted to never having heard of the guy.

A sudden beep of an email message surprised her, but not as much as the sender's name: Mikey Essen.

Casey quickly opened the email which consisted of one line.

"I lost a friend today."


	12. A New Picture

"_I lost a friend today."_

The words burnt into Casey's laptop screen. She should ask what he was playing at. How he thought he could just pick up their conversations as though he hadn't bailed on her. But instead she typed. "How?"  
"Do you know what the word "eviscerate" means?" Derek replied.

If he had really been speaking his tone would have been dead. As it was, he typed the email with heavy fingers as though he resented having to say the words. Even his immediate follow-up email of "Shit! Of course you do you're a fucking doctor" was typed less dramatically than it looked on the screen.

The Derek that Casey had known as a teenager was carefree, light-hearted even. His demeanour bore no resemblance to that of the man currently sending emails to her.

Casey's jaw had dropped at the word "eviscerate" and her subsequent email tone was anything but dead. She knew what "eviscerate" meant. She'd seen pictures in medical texts on the subject – lecturers always like to show you the extreme side of medicine.

"_Eviscerate?_ Are you serious? I mean, _how_ does one of your friends end up eviscerated?" It was heavily punctuated and expressive – sort of like an email blurt.

Casey was beginning to think that maybe Mikey was an axe-murderer…friend of Derek's or not. Normal people did not have friends who met such a horrible end.

Actually, knowing Derek it was entirely possible Mikey was an axe murderer!

His next email shocked and calmed her at the same time. It read. "He was undercover and his cover got blown. The death was a statement not to mess with someone. 'You spill your guts…'etcetera."

And right there he had crossed a small boundary he had thought he could maintain. He had given Casey information about his new life. He took a deep swig of the alcohol he had in his glass. Heck! Who was he kidding? Sending Casey _any_ email when he had sworn himself off contacting her was crossing a _major_ border… a border of Berlin wall proportions.

"He was a cop?" Casey wasn't stupid…he never said she was…well not lately anyway.

"Of sorts." Derek shot back.

_Shut up Derek. _His own common sense was concerned.

Casey asked the obvious question. "How did you know him?"

_Don't do this Derek…._Common sense pleaded. Common sense lost.

"We worked together."

_Damn!_ _How did she do that? _How did she make him want to tell her everything? Which of course he couldn't, because then everything he had worked for, strived to protect would be left vulnerable…at risk…in danger. And it had always been thus. Casey always sailed him away from the familiar and placed him in uncharted waters. She was his nemesis.

Derek, cursing himself inwardly, continued. "He'd only been in the department for three weeks but he was a nice guy – experienced although it was his first undercover assignment since he moved to us. I was supposed to meet up with him, and when he didn't show I went looking and found the body. That's not a sight I'll forget in a hurry. Messy."  
"_You're_ a cop?" Casey's eyes widened but she was kind of pleased that she had finally found out something concrete about this mysterious guy.

"Like I said…of sorts."

"What sort?" She pushed, desperate to have so many more questions answered.

"The "I could tell you but then I'd have to get you stopped for every possible traffic violation." sort." He lied.

"Ha ha. Somehow I don't picture you directing traffic and traffic cops don't end up like your friend. What sort of cop?"

"Seriously, hun. You don't want to know."

For now she took him at his word. She wasn't keen for him to sever ties again. "But it's legal?"

"And deadly."  
Casey bit her bottom lip. "So I see. Does that happen often?"  
"Death in the line of duty? Yes…every now and then especially for our department. _Grubby's_ kind of death…Jesus! I hope that's unique."

"Grubby?"

"My friend."

"Was he?"

"My friend? Yeah I think so. Jazz and I went for a beer with him a couple of times." Derek misunderstood.

"I meant was his nickname a reflection of his hygiene?" Casey said pedantically.

"No. It was his name." Derek explained.

He didn't like where this was going. She seemed to leech the information from him like the animal of the same name; Latching onto his exposed skin and drawing the details from him like blood drops, feeding her need to know everything…_Keener!_

"Who's Jazz?" Casey confirmed his suspicions and made him roll his eyes again.  
"I see the sticking your nose into other people's business hasn't changed."

"I see the ridiculous evasiveness hasn't changed. Lighten up Mikey, I'm not a secret agent or in cahoots with Lucifer."  
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Derek replied. "I've seen what you're capable of."  
"No you've heard lies and rumours that Derek has been spouting off about me."

Derek chuckled, and as he read Casey's responses, he opened up another window on his laptop.

"Lies and rumours?" He repeated, switching back to Mikey's email account. "You mean like the time you dressed up in a disguise and staked out Smelly Nelly's? Or the time you broke the television while George and Nora were on a road trip. Or shall we talk about you hijacking the Principal's office furniture and leaving it on the roof of the school?"

"Was there _nothing_ the guy didn't tell you?" Casey grouched as Derek switched screens again, typed in the address for his old email provider, then switched back to his current email screen, the one for Mikey Essen.

"Not much…except he didn't tell me how you really felt about him, because obviously he didn't know."

If Casey was going to bombard him with leading questions, he was going to get his fair share of information from her too!

"He was an egotistical moron who blighted my every day." Casey's current email said.

Derek sighed. He had hoped that they had got past that animosity with their conversations just before he "died". He had tried hard to repair their relationship in the hours before his "death".

That had been ironic. When he met up with Casey just before he "died", he hadn't even known that he was going to get hurt and he certainly hadn't known that they were going to make him_ die_! The time they spent together _had_ been deliberate on his part. He knew he was leaving and he had wanted her to remember him that way when he _left._ He just hadn't expected to leave _that_ way!

In their defence, neither had his superiors.

He logged onto his own email address for the first time in three days. This was the one in the name of Derek Venturi…the one to which Casey had sent her out-pouring earlier.

So while Casey called him an "egotistical moron who blighted my every day" in her email to Mikey, Derek was reading for the first time the long note Casey had sent to the real him in an effort to stop her vomiting at the hospital.

"_It hurts, Derek."_

He closed his eyes. _It hurts for me too, sweetheart._

* * *

"You're in a good mood." Marti said accusingly as she kissed Casey "hello". It was the following Sunday and they were both at George and Nora's house for Sunday lunch.

Casey smiled. "Am I? Sorry…I'll work on that."

Marti butted her with her shoulder. "Don't be silly. You know what I mean…do you have something to tell me?"  
"Like?" Casey asked.

"Mikey contacted you again, didn't he?" Marti kept her voice low so that the rest of the family didn't hear.

Casey toyed with the idea of lying to her, but gave up. She had never been good at untruths. They always niggled at her until she felt compelled to reveal all.

"Yes."

"And?"

"And What?"

"What was his explanation?"

Casey looked up and noticed her mother was standing close by.

"Can we talk about this later?"

Marti followed the direction of her glance. "Sure…but we are talking about it, okay?"

_Because I SO want to know what my big brother is playing at._ Marti added silently.

Casey nodded and let herself be swept into the buzz of conversations around her.

Marti was uncharacteristically quiet during the meal. She looked around her at the family she loved so much, they were laughing and joking easily. Time had moved on and they were gradually getting better at avoiding the elephant in the corner of the room. You can grieve, but life still has to go on. They were all learning how to let that happen.

Except Casey.

On the face of it, Casey would appear to be moving on. She had a new interest in her life, her eyes looked alert and sparkled. And if she didn't know better, Marti would say that Casey was falling for the new man in her life.

Marti could understand why Casey latched onto "Mikey" he gave her back something that was missing from her life – something she thought she desperately needed. Marti could also see how someone who "knew" Casey so well would be good for her. If Mikey was real, he would have been Casey's best chance of happiness right now.

But what Casey didn't know was the new man wasn't "new" at all. Instead, he was someone that Casey had once declared was her mortal enemy. It was all farcical to the nth degree.

Marti knew. She hadn't had any confirmation of Mikey's real identity but she was pretty certain that Mikey was Derek. She hadn't been too surprised when he didn't reply to her message. Derek wasn't good at owning up to his biggest pranks - take that office furniture thing that time…

Expecting him to admit that he was still alive was a long shot, even if it had only been a prank.

And she _wasn't_ convinced it was a prank. If Mikey _was_ Derek, Marti knew there had to be a very good reason behind why he had faked his own death. You don't just put your family through seven years of horror like that for nothing. Especially, when you are very close to your family.

No. The only reason why Derek would have behaved the way he had was because the alternative in his eyes was so much worse.

The trouble was Marti was struggling to work out what could be worse? Was he in prison? Witness Protection? As soon as she thought those two options, she mentally shook her head. Derek got into bad scrapes, but never anything serious enough to warrant a jail term. (He had been brought home by the cops once when he was twelve. Marti had only been three, but even she could remember George and Abby's reaction to _that_ little incident.)

And Witness Protection? Marti found herself shaking her head about that too. If Derek needed to hide, he would have taken his family with him…wouldn't he? He wouldn't leave his family out in the cold to deal with whatever crap he had left behind. (Of course, with him "dead" there would be no reason to touch his family as they couldn't be used for leverage…)

Marti sighed over her roast chicken. She still didn't believe it. He wouldn't have left her, not without leaving some sign that he was still alive.

Then she thought of Mikey Essen's profile picture…the Leaf's bear.

Oh.

Which begged the question, what on earth was Derek doing with Casey?

After lunch, Marti insisted on going for a walk with Casey to get some air. Nora frowned and looked at her step-daughter with surprise and a typical "is this a Venturi trick?" expression. Marti wasn't lazy by any means, but she wasn't the "I'm just going for a walk"-type either.

Casey smiled reassuringly at her mother and mouthed "guy problems" which seemed to reassure her parent.

Casey didn't mention which of them had the problem!

They strolled the Toronto neighbourhood briskly and ended up in a park that Casey hadn't been to since she was fourteen. She gasped in surprise that some of the equipment from her childhood was still standing. It looked like it had been re-painted repeatedly, and the surface underneath the climbing frame had been replaced with some sort of rubber composite but otherwise it was a scene from her childhood.

Without saying a word to Marti she ran to the tallest climbing frame and began to pull herself up until she reached the highest point. Laughing, Marti followed her.

At the top, they sat surveying their surrounds, the cooling autumnal air still warm enough to make the higher vantage point comfortable.

"I used to climb here all the time." Casey said.

Marti grinned. "When I picture you, I don't picture you climbing." She commented.

"I climbed all the time until I was twelve."

"Why did you stop?"  
Casey shrugged and looked away. "A teacher I looked up to at my school told me that it lacked dignity and was unbecoming in a young lady." She sighed. "I respected her, so I listened." Her voice had a tinge of regret.

"Climbing is fun?" Marti said.

"Even in a gypsy skirt." Casey nodded towards the long-flowing print skirt her little step-sister was wearing. Marti laughed.

"Oh that's the best bit." She answered. "You can do this…"

And with that, she gripped the bars of the frame in her hand and rolled herself upside down. Her dark accessorised hair hung straight down towards the ground, only just visible beneath the long cotton fabric of her skirt which was now inside out and covering her upper body like a Can-Can dancer. The action had revealed rainbow-coloured striped pantyhose and a pair of cami-knickers that looked like they had been made from an old Maple Leaf.

Casey, used to the eccentricities of the Venturis – and Marti in particular, merely giggled and said "remind me to get you a Victoria's Secret gift card for Christmas."

Marti righted herself with a loud chuckle.

"You don't like my flag underwear?" She asked. "They were an assignment."

"Did you pass?"

"Of course!" Marti giggled. "The assignment was entitled "Hidden Passions" and I knew my tutor was very patriotic. It was one of my highest marks actually."

Casey grinned. "Sometimes you are so like Derek – and then other times you are so like me."

"On that occasion I think I was channelling both of you!" Marti smiled back. "Venturi-McDonald genes combining again!" She said slyly. Casey wondered why she found herself suddenly blushing.

"So…Mikey." Marti went on. "What did he say?"

"About why he stopped emailing me? Absolutely nothing. I'm not even sure he meant to start emailing me again."

"So why did he?"

Casey gripped the bar beneath her backside tightly, remembering the conversation.

"He had something traumatic happen at work. I guess he needed someone to talk to."

"Did he tell you what?"

Casey nodded. "I'm not repeating though. I may be a doctor but…"

"Okay. Did he tell you what he does for a living?" Marti was as excited as Casey had been about finding out what Mikey did for a living. For her though, it was knowing what Derek was doing now.

"Yes. He's a cop."

Marti looked amazed. "A cop?" She queried.

"Yes."

"A Mountie or ON?"

Casey was taken aback. "Do you know I didn't think to ask that question? I assumed an ON cop. But I guess he could be a Mountie."

Marti snorted out loud. She couldn't help it. She knew there were all sorts of branches of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, but like most people the first image to cross her mind at the thought of a Mountie was the Benton Fraser type of red coat. The thought that Derek Venturi was potentially wearing red serge with midnight blue breeches just failed to compute in her mind. A new image of her brother sitting astride a horse in full dress uniform appeared and she started to giggle.

Casey didn't know what Marti was picturing, but she had an idea it had to do with the uniform, and Marti's giggles were always contagious. Before long, they both had tears streaming down their cheeks.

"Are you still talking to him?" Marti asked when the laughter had died away.

"If I can keep a straight face." Casey said with a chuckle. "We talk to each other all the time now."

"You should ask him then."

"Ask him how exactly? He's more secretive than Derek."

Marti didn't react to her statement. "I don't know. Maybe ask him if he had a good day at work and if Trigger has had his oats and rub down yet."

And then they both laughed so much they had to climb down before they fell off.


	13. Late Nights

"I can't believe he told you that!" Casey typed indignantly after reading Mikey's latest revealing email. "He promised he'd never mention that to anyone."

"In his defence, it was to save his own butt. I had something on him and was threatening to share it with the women's hockey team."

"Oh? Do tell?"

Derek laughed. "You already know. It was the wetting the bed story."  
"Oh." Casey was disappointed. "You're a disappointment, you realise that don't you?"  
"People have been saying that to me my whole life." Derek confirmed.

"Nice try but I'm all out of sympathy."

"You're a hard woman, McDonald."

"Blame Derek Venturi. I was nice before I met him."  
"Really?" Derek chuckled. "Doesn't Nora called you her "favourite little drama queen"?"

"Okay…I was _nicer_. It's disturbing the amount you know about me."  
"Oh believe me, Casey I haven't even scratched the surface."

"That's what I'm worried about."  
"Talking of scratches, whose fault was the dent in George's car?"

"That was totally Derek! If he hadn't snatched the paper from my hand…if he had just accepted my plan of action…"

"…your plan of action? You mean operation 'purple fog' your lame ABC guide to sneaking out? The one that was supposed to be so easy even Marti could do it, yet somehow you still managed to screw it up!"

"It wasn't lame and _I_ didn't reverse into George's car. I was the one telling Derek to check before he reversed! You know, usually, when you are planning on driving a car out of a garage you check there is nothing behind you first."

"Why didn't _you_ check? Maybe I…[furious backspacing!] _he_ would have done, if you hadn't been chewing his ear off at the time, little Miss Giggly-Goody-Two-Shoes who was so lame she climbed down the tree so that she – I quote- 'got the whole sneaking out experience'!"

"Don't mock me, Mikey. It was a big deal for me. I'd never done anything so sneaky before."

"You mean not even the time that you – shock horror- pretended to be abducted by the demon plumber?"

"Derek totally deserved that, and he pretended to be decapitated! Besides, it never hurts to plan."

"Casey…the trouble with your planning - it crosses whole new boundaries. I mean…who in their _right_ mind packs crustless cucumber sandwiches when they sneak out to go to a party?"  
"I bet if I'd made ham and cheese bagels Derek would have eaten them…"

"Casey…"

"Or bacon cheeseburger with relish and mayo…"

"Casey…"

"I've got it! Steak sandwich with fries and onion rings. He wouldn't have thrown the snack away then!"

"Can we just shut up about food already!" Derek would have hollered…if he could.

"You skip lunch again?"

"Yeah."

"Vending machine?" Casey suggested.

"Empty…" he typed sadly.

"Send an intern out to the golden arches?"

"Intern? Jesus, princess! What do you think we do around here?" Because we have college graduates photocopying in their smart little suits…yeah…right.

Casey laughed, and frankly, so did Derek.

"I miss this." She typed and pressed enter.

"Yeah well you always were a bit insane."

Derek looked around him at the empty office. He was on the graveyard shift tonight, and for once it was quiet. He was reclined in his office chair, feet up on the desk, laptop on his legs. Sometimes it was lonely working so late. But then his whole life wasn't one big party normally. He had learnt to be quiet and restrained. Oh the irony.

There were other times which were less quiet; times when Casey was just getting in from her own evening shift. This wasn't the first time they had deliberately sort each other out late at night. And he knew despite his better judgement, it wouldn't be the last.

"Kill any patients today?" He asked casually.  
"No, but stab yourself in the eye and get admitted and I'll oblige." Casey sniped back.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Me with a sharpie embedded in my skull."

Casey smiled. "I have to admit the idea does have a certain charm about it."  
"That's just plain nasty Casey McDonald."

"What? This coming from the guy who phoned up the hospital switchboard and told them to evacuate the building because there was a suspicious package – "Oh no…wait that's just Dr McDonald – I didn't recognise her with her clothes on."!"

"I thought it was amusing."  
"Yeah well you would. Decent people however…"

Actually she was right. Decent people didn't think it was funny. The hospital had reported the call to the provincial police who, because a hospital was a potential terror target, referred it to a national level and thereby the Mounties– and by complete fluke it landed in Spike's department.

Spike's team (Derek was working another case at the time) subsequently discovered that the origin of the call was one of their own phone lines and that the target of the call was Dr Casey McDonald. When they reported their findings to Spike he had said nothing, just stood the department down and called Derek into his office.

A half an hour, and a half-chewed ass later, Derek limped from the office to his own desk where he read an indignant email from Casey.

It had been painful…but totally worth it!

…until twenty four hours later, when Casey emailed him again to thank him for the prank which had "enabled me to meet the cutest policeman who has promised to take me out on a very romantic date. So I'd just like to say thank you."

Derek was in a foul mood for a good two hours until a short Facebook message sent to Derek Venturi stated.

"She's joking, Derek. There is no romantic date with a cute cop…unless you're planning on obliging."

It was yet another message from Marti he forced himself to ignore.

* * *

"Why no lunch?" Casey continued a few moments later.

"I was on stake out."

"I thought cops ate most of their meals on stake outs? You know… hotdogs and doughnuts."

"I was in the middle of nowhere watching a farm. The only beef in the vicinity was still breathing and would have been extremely pissed off if I'd bitten into its rump. I like my meat rare but that would be a step too far."

"Which case?" His step-sister asked. Derek was past the point of groaning at how much information he had shared with Casey. He just got on with it and told her everything these days. She was an expert at ferreting out his secrets anyway. It was miracle she hadn't twigged who Mikey really was yet.

"There is only one case." Derek said and they both knew that it was the same case that had already got one of Derek's team killed in a horrific way. As if voicing both their thoughts, Casey started checking the facts so that she knew to what degree she needed to freak out.

"How many of you on the stake out?"

"Just Jazz and me."

"Is that normal?"

"Is what normal?"

"Just the two of you."

"Well if I'd taken the whole of the hockey team don't ya think it might have looked a little suspicious? I mean, we can't all fit in a car or squat behind a nearby hedge."  
"Surely two grown men sitting in a car on a country lane looks a bit suspicious too?"

Derek smiled at her naïveté. "That's sort of the point, Casey. When people see two grown men in a car in a country lane they tend to avoid them like the plague."

"Why?"

"In case we're up to something."

"You mean something illegal?"

"I suppose there is a degree of illegality about it, but more in the indecent exposure line."  
Casey's eyes widened. "You pretend you're meeting for sex? Omg! Why? No wait…I don't want to know why."

Derek laughed. "Because most people's reaction when they see us is exactly like yours. They don't want to come any closer in case they see something…unpalatable. And they're so embarrassed that they don't say anything…or at least not for a few days and then it is only to gossip with their friends. By which time, Jazz and I are long gone."

Casey considered that for a moment. "That makes sense."  
"Ya think?" he chuckled.

"So are you armed?" Casey asked, resuming her interrogation in her quest to route out just exactly how much danger he was in.

"I'm always armed." Derek typed coldly.

"Is _that_ normal?" Casey asked.

"No."

"Are you some sort of special armed response unit?"

"In a way…but mainly I'm armed for my own protection."

"Because…?"

"I pissed someone off a long time ago."

"Oh. What did you do?"

Derek paused. There was sharing…and then there was sharing.

"I did the right thing." He said cryptically. _And it cost me my life._

Later that night, Casey lay in bed thinking about recent weeks and the myriad of conversations she had engaged in with Mikey. Since he had started emailing her again, there had hardly been a day when they hadn't communicated and the emails that flowed between them were always the same...heat-filled in a hundred different ways. There was the snark, the argument and occasionally a touch of anger. There was warmth, banter and playfulness. But mostly, there was passion, concern and love.

When Casey was in the middle of an argument with Mikey she felt alive…more alive than she had felt in years; more alive than she had since Derek's death. Mikey gave her back what she had lost with the loss of Derek.

And that was very dangerous.

In the seven years since Casey McDonald had lost her step-brother, she had analysed her relationship with him to the nth degree and just recently her conclusions had been earth-shattering.

They had not treated each other as siblings because that would make things very awkward for them indeed. Casey had finally worked out what irked her most about Derek Venturi. It wasn't his cockiness or the accompanying smirk. It wasn't the way everything seemed to go right for him or even how everyone seemed to like him.

It was the attraction she felt to him; attraction which had been mutating into something else entirely.


	14. Christmas Gifts

Casey kicked open the door because she didn't have a free hand and then hollered "Can someone please help me before we end up eating the turkey off the door mat?"

Edwin appeared in the flash. "Did someone say turkey?" he asked hopefully. Casey gave him the stink eye.

"It's not cooked yet Ed, so hands off before you get salmonella, listeria or a bloodied nose." She promised with an awkward shuffle. "If you give me a hand with this lot I have English mince pies in the trunk of my car."  
"Gee I've missed you sis!" Edwin said, relieving her of an armful of Tupperware.

"You saw me last weekend, Edwin."

Edwin smirked. "Yeah but you weren't bringing food then."

Casey turned back her arms now empty, to make her way carefully down the icy path to her car. She shook her head as she went. What was it about the Venturis and their stomachs?

This time it was Marti who met her at the front door.

"Any more?" She asked, relieving Casey of the current armful. Casey nodded.

"Another two trips I think." She said and disappeared back down the path. Marti chuckled and turned to make her way into the kitchen.

Much later, when the food was tucked safely into the large fridge and Robbie, George and Edwin were under strict instructions not to touch, the adult members of the house were relaxing lazily in the living room, ten year old Robbie dispatched off to bed under pains of no Christmas gifts if he stirred before eight the next morning.

George furnished them all with drinks, even Marti who he was reluctant to admit was allowed to partake.

"Shall we make our usual toast?" he said, grimacing slightly.

Casey's happy demeanour disappeared.

"You mean get it out of the way before it spoils our Christmas!" She said, bitterly.

"That's unfair, Casey!" Nora objected. "He was George's _son_!"

"He _is _George's son. You don't stop being a son just because you die. It's just everything about Derek these days is a routine. You visit his grave on his anniversary. You raise a toast to him at Christmas. None of that I would actually have a problem with if you _talked_ about him the rest of the time. But you don't. It's as though you are scared of tears. Don't you do _feelings_ George?"

"Maybe George does but he doesn't make a song and dance about them." Nora said quietly.

"I'm not making a song and dance about my feelings. I'm making a song and dance about Derek. He would hate to be your hair shirt, George, you know that? He loved being the centre of attention. He would want us to remember Derekus. He would want us to think about that year he didn't buy any presents and we all got gifts wrapped up from around the house. He would want to be a proper part of our celebrations, not the bit that we all dread. Not the bit we need a glass of wine to get through."  
And no one said anything because they all knew Casey's words were true.

In an effort to be supportive, Marti put down her drink and dashed off to her room, returning with a large scrapbook from the very first year that they became a blended family, and Edwin found a DVD of a Derek hockey match.

And when the family had exhausted both, Lizzie re-told the tale of Derek teaching her to play ice hockey and Casey reminisced about exams he had cheated on and girls who had joined them at family meals. There might have been a bit of cheating going on there too.

And when bed time came it was Casey who stood with the glass in her hand.

"To Derek, without whom we all would have had an easier life, but one which none of us would have enjoyed half as much."

Marti, who noticed the air of relief in the room since the forbidden subject had been brought out into the open, had raised her glass like the rest of them…

…despite the extra knowledge that she possessed.

* * *

When she got to her room, Marti found that she wasn't tired and her thoughts were full of "Smerek". Casey's home truths about the way they treated Derek these days had made her love her sister even more…it also made her realise that Casey was going to be badly hurt when/if the truth of Derek's "death" were ever revealed.

Marti opened her laptop and connected to the family's wireless internet. Then she logged into Facebook and started to write.

"_It's Casey's turn to cook Christmas Dinner this year. Frankly, we all wish she'd do it every year. She turned up earlier with a trunk full of Christmas fare that would have your mouth watering including an enormous turkey, cakes and homemade sweets! Seriously, you'd think she was a stay-at-home mom rather than a busy ER doctor._

_She turned up with an "opinion" too. Dad went to give his usual "Derek eulogy" and Casey cut him off. She said that you shouldn't be relegated to an awkward two minute speech that everyone needs a drink to get through [I'm paraphrasing, but not by much]. She insisted that we talk about you as though_ _you'd popped out to visit Sam or are upstairs asleep. She's determined that you should remain part of this family, Derek. I'm very proud of her._

_And that's why I'm contacting you again. Casey has become very important to me; more even than just as a big sister. She is my confidante because she alone understands the loss I felt when you left us. I go to her about guys and stuff…She means the world to me the same way you do. I'm telling you this because I really don't want her hurt… not even by you - especially by you._

_Casey is not a figure of fun, bro. She should not be the recipient of your pranks anymore. She's grown, and she's been hurt. What she needs is love and respect, not a dose of what you threw her way when you were teenagers. You know that this is a game, she doesn't. Please don't make me choose between you – because I won't see her get hurt._

_Anyway, Merry Christmas! I miss you so much. I know you read my messages, and I know that you can't reply. I will be thinking about you tomorrow, wherever you are. I know what your job is and I hope, if you are working, that you take care. I worry that if something happens to you at work, we'll never be told. I would hate that. It would kill Casey – because she would think you had just walked away again._

_I love you Smerek._

_I hope that Santa brings you everything you desire._

_Smarti_

_XXXX"_

A short time later:

"_Smarti, _

_You can ask me to stop breathing – although officially I don't do that anymore._

_You can ask me to stop eating – believe me even Edwin's cooking sounds great right about now. The alternative is my own._

_You can ask me to stop turning my head every time a hot chick walks past._

_And you can even ask me to slow down when I'm driving my car._

_I can do all of that._

_What you can't stop me doing is pranking Casey. _

_I am physically incapable of it…_

…_however, you have nothing to worry about._

This_ maybe a lot of things: stupid, irresponsible, doomed?_

_But it isn't a prank._

_And if you ever think it is, believe me, the joke is firmly on me._

_Go give your sister the same warning, because there the danger really lies._

_As regards informing the next of kin…my boss has your address and instructions…_

_Smerek_

_X_

_P.S. Merry Christmas to you too honey. I love you X"_

* * *

"Evening Jerk." Casey typed a short while later the same evening.

"Evening wench." Mikey replied.

"I suppose I have you to thank for the free samples of the incontinence underwear?" Casey typed.

"Did they fit?"  
"Alas no. However, as there was about a year's supply I passed them to the local Community clinic seeing as they are always short of money and supplies. I sent them the dietary aids from last week too. Perhaps I should just give you _their _address and you can send the stuff direct."  
"Now where's the fun in that?" Derek replied laughing.

Casey rolled her eyes. "Derek was a bad influence on you."

"Hey! You can't put this on Derek! It's you…you're just so prank-worthy."  
"I'm so glad you spelled that correctly." Casey retorted. Derek's eyes widened.

Marti was right…Casey had grown up!

"Meaning?" Derek asked in mock innocence.

Casey blushed and although he couldn't seen her do that, the pause while she tried to find a way to respond to his request made it abundantly clear that deep down she was still the same old innocent he knew and…cared about.

"So! What are you doing for Christmas?" Casey opted for changing the subject. Derek laughed.

"Exactly the same thing I told you yesterday. My plans haven't changed." He said.

"What? Oh…yes…Sorry I forgot. It's hectic here. You know, trying to keep Edwin, Robbie and George away from the Christmas dinner so it's still there when I come to cook it."

"What are you having?"  
"Turkey, potatoes, stuffing and so on. Mom didn't fancy goose this year. She read somewhere that it was really high in fat and she's on a diet so turkey it is."

"Sounds nice. Think of me when you are tucking in. I'll be enjoying microwave mac and cheese washed down with a beer." Derek wasn't lying.

"Do you really not have any family?" Casey queried.

"Still fishing, Casey?" He smiled to himself.

"I just…you shouldn't have to spend Christmas alone." She commented.

"Not everyone has a fantastic family like the Venturi-McDonalds."

"Venturis." Casey corrected. "Mom's stopped using her name completely and if you ask Lizzie or me what the family name is these days we tend to say Venturi. Although legally I still go by McDonald."

"Wow!" Derek said, surprised. "That's nice. Derek would have been amused, touched even."

Casey snorted. "Ha! Derek was touched, period. And it was more out of practicality than sentiment." She lied. "McDonald-Venturi was a mouthful."

"I always said McDonald-Venturi was hard to swallow." Derek wasn't talking about the double-barrelling of their names.

"You'll be in the office then?" Casey said.

"Skeleton crew." Derek confirmed, marvelling again at the truly appropriate nature of that description. "I'll be sharing the office space with all the other sad losers who don't have invitations to spend Christmas with a hot chick who can cook."

"Did you get your packet?" Casey asked nervously.

Derek took a deep breath. He had received an email yesterday saying that there was a package awaiting him at the central postal depot. He hadn't been sure what to make of that seeing as there was nothing he was expecting. He had almost sent Spike to collect it, worried that it was something adversarial.

But then Casey had made a veiled comment about unexpected gifts and instead of sharing with his mentor, Derek in the person of Mikey, had visited the depot. He had come away with a large box, wrapped in Christmas paper, labelled in Casey's writing: "Do not open until 25th December."

"Yeah. I got it."  
"Did you open it?"

"You said not to." He answered.

"Oh…good."

"Is it something good, or is it something I should just pass straight to goodwill?"  
"Well I was having a clear out of my junk room at the time that I put the box together." She lied easily.

"Really? That good huh?" Derek sounded less than enthusiastic.

"You really won't know until you open it, will you?" Casey replied.

"Any suspect white powders or semtex?" He asked.

"No." Casey's answer was short and to the point.

"I'll open it in the morning." Derek said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome." Casey typed.

"What shall we argue about tonight?" Derek asked. "We're overdue a good fight."

* * *

At 12.01am, Derek Venturi sat on his bed in his apartment with the large, Christmas-wrapped box in front of him. Technically, it was the 25th December, but only just. He supposed that this wasn't what Casey had meant when she said to wait until Christmas Day. But it had been seven years since he had opened a Christmas present from anyone in his family. He couldn't wait.

The wrapping paper was typically Casey: tasteful, good-quality and carefully put together. He almost wanted to take a picture of the wrapped present because the sight of it sitting before him on the bed was as good as unwrapping it. But he didn't.

Instead, he pulled the parcel close to him, found a corner and slid a finger between the folded paper and tape.

The old Derek would have ripped into the paper, discarding it gleefully in his hurry to inspect the contents. New Derek enjoyed the fact that the parcel was even there; the contents were secondary. It was a reminder of home; a reminder of the family he missed; a reminder of an annoying step-sister whose arguments he had endured in his teens, but which he now enjoyed as fond memories – hating how they were fading with time.

At least now they were making new memories, even if they were merely text on a screen.

When he lifted the lid from the box, he could see it was stuffed with items and on the top was a letter.

_I told my family that I had a friend who would be alone this Christmas and they helped me put this together – it was Marti's idea – one of her less outlandish ones._

_I hope you don't feel patronised by this present – it was sent with love. They thought long and hard about everything that went into it. My presents are at the bottom._

_Merry Christmas Mikey._

_You may be solitary this Christmas, but you aren't alone._

_Love Casey _

_XXXX_

The presents were layered in the box, each of them wrapped in a different shade of tissue paper.

George had sent a Leafs' shirt. It was vintage in an "I've been worn" way, but Derek recognised it as one he had bought his father many years before, and it meant the world to him.

Nora sent packs of socks and underwear, as only a mom could.

Lizzie sent a desk tidy made of recycled cardboard. It was designed to look like a toilet roll inner although it was made from nothing of the sort. Derek chuckled as he realised his other step-sister had hardly changed at all. (Memories of dioramas springing to mind easily.)

Edwin sent money…which though Casey had frowned upon, Marti had persuaded her to let it go. It couldn't have been more appropriate.

Robbie had sent popcorn strings for "Mikey's" tree; long strands of popcorn laced together which gave the present box a real Christmas smell.

And then there was Marti's gift – a wrapped parcel which he somehow knew Casey hadn't seen before it was encased in paper. Derek's fingers were shaking as he dislodged the tissue paper to reveal a small black photograph album. The album was filled with pictures of the family Derek had left behind; photographs covering seven years.

There were photographs of all the family, of their new homes, new cars. There were photographs of Sam, tall and proud at his wedding to Ruth, Casey standing as joint Best Person next to Ralph. And there was Ralph, proudly showing off outside the entrance to his new bar. There were pictures of Ruth with her rotund belly enclosed in Sam's arms and then Amelia Casey comfortable in her parents' arms.

But most of all there was Casey: At her graduations, photographs of her in her scrubs, photographs of her with Amelia, with Ralph, with Marti and their family, and most recently a photograph of an older Casey sitting on a swing. She was smiling and looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, but that wasn't what caught his eye.

There was sadness in her face that belied the smile and made him want to make her laugh – to cheer her up. He also noticed she was wearing one of his old t-shirts.

Casey's own gifts were small but carefully thought out. There was a small box of homemade chocolate which smelled delicious and might not make it to the following day. There was a brand new t-shirt in the colours he used to wear with an amusing caption across the chest. And, surprisingly because she wasn't religious, (or actually not surprisingly because she was Casey after all), there was a tiny silver medal of St Michael the Archangel. This confused him until he found a small card which informed him that St Michael was the patron saint of police officers because he was loyal and trustworthy, fighting the criminal and protecting heaven and earth from the wrong-doer. Derek rolled his eyes, but slipped the small disc into his wallet all the same.

Finally Casey too had enclosed a picture, but this time it was in a frame. It was recent and appeared to be a candid shot of a casually-dressed Casey sitting at her laptop. She looked fantastic and something about the picture made him suspect it had been taken just for him. Her pose was the way he imagined her whilst she was bantering with him. Except, his memories of her hadn't done her justice – either that or she had grown more beautiful in the missing years. A part of Derek was relieved that they weren't living under the same roof anymore. He didn't think his libido would cope with close proximity.

But he liked the picture…even more so because most of the sparkle was back in her eyes.

* * *

The space around the Christmas tree was looking chaotic. Instead of neatly wrapped presents stacked beneath the baubles, there was a mass of torn paper, and knotted ribbon. Casey groaned and realising no one else was going to do it, she stood and made her way into the kitchen for a sack to collect the paper.

"Make sure you put it out for recycling!" Lizzie shouted.

Casey smiled as she returned. "Would I ever do anything else?"

"I remember you tipping it over Derek's head once." Robbie said from across the room where he was examining a new construction set.

"You remember that?" Casey asked surprised because Robbie had been three when Derek died.

Robbie nodded. "I remembered because you made a mess and I had never seen you do that before. It scared me."

Edwin sniggered and started to make a comment. Casey put up her hand.

"You aren't Derek, Edwin…don't even think it."

The rest of the family laughed and Nora, remembering that there was a large mess under the tree which they had all contributed got down onto the floor to help clear the balls of paper.

As soon as she put her hand under the tree she stopped.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "We missed one!"

Edwin sat forward. "A present?" he sounded excited and disgusted at the same time: excitement that there was still one gift to be opened, disgusted that he had failed in his "Chief-Present-Disher" duties. "Whose it for?"

"Casey. Oh! It's the parcel that came earlier in the week."

"Parcel?" Casey asked surprised taking the package from her mother's hands. "Who'd send me…?" Her voice trailed away as she realised exactly who.

It was a gold necklace with her initials, "CMD". The letters scrolled and entwined each other and all the women in the room cooed. Not even the fact that you shouldn't include the "D" of McDonald in her initials diminished Casey's pleasure at the gift.

"Wow!" She said. "It's beautiful."

"Who's it from?" Lizzie and Nora chorused.

"Mikey." Casey blushed again. "My friend who is all alone."

Edwin snorted. "Some how I get the feeling he might not be _that_ alone for much longer."  
Casey elbowed him. "It's not like that. I don't even know what the guy looks like."

Nora looked concerned. "Who is he, Casey? What do you know about him? I mean he could be in his forties or fifties."

"What's wrong with that?" George protested.

"Nothing…for someone my age." Nora said. "But, for Casey…?"

"Honestly, Mom. He's a friend of Derek's. I met him once…I think. That night was a bit hazy."

"Well you be careful. You shouldn't really have given him our address."

"I didn't." Casey said, confused. "I guess one of Derek's other friends must have given it to him."  
"Casey, he might not even know Derek. He could be using generalities to lure you in."

"Come into my parlour said the spider to the fly." Edwin said in a stupid voice that earned him a dirty look from Nora.

"I think it's okay Nora." Marti said quietly. "I remember Derek talking about Mikey. He's harmless."

"Well…I just think…"

"Mom! I'll be careful, okay?"

Nora nodded.

Casey reached up to put the necklace on, but part of the shine was gone.

* * *

"CMD." Marti "said" to Derek later that night. "Nice. Of course I know that you know Casey's initials are CM not CMD. From an angle it looks like the M is binding the C and the D together – but then I guess you know that too."

"No comment."

* * *

**AN: My late grandfather always sat up until one minute past 12 to open his presents at Christmas. He also had a good feel of all the parcels to see if he could guess! (Even when he was elderly!) **

**He died three years ago and would have been 91 next month.**


	15. Vacation

"Hey Calam! You wanna go grab a coffee or something?" Steven asked as Casey made her way back to hand over the notes for the last patient.

"Oh…Hi Steven. Erm…yeah…sure. Let me just finish up here. Meet you across the street?"

Ten minutes later, Casey - now dressed in civvies was sitting in a booth sipping hot chocolate. Steven slid into the seat opposite her.

"Nice necklace." He commented. Casey blushed.

"Thank you. It was a gift."

Steven curled an eyebrow. Casey blushed again.

"From a _friend_." She stated firmly.

"Of course." Steven nodded his head.

"And yes, if you are going to push…a male friend. A male friend who I've known for a couple of months…although in reality a lot longer, although I can't remember it because I was apparently stoned at the time and who potentially I might be developing feelings for. Eek!"

The last sound was Casey realising she had word-vomited things her own mind hadn't figured out yet.

Steven chuckled. "You are very easy to interrogate, you know that?"

She sighed. "I have been told that before, yes."  
"How was Christmas?"

"Nice. Quiet…well unless you count George deciding to make Christmas more magical for Robbie by recreating the whole "When Santa got stuck up the chimney" thing."

"Aw! That's cute. He must be a great dad."

"Steven, Robbie is nearly eleven. He worked out Santa wasn't real when he was two which was about two years before Marti did. Besides which, this was on the 26th not the 24th."

"So why was George doing it?"

"A little too much winter cheer combined with an overdose of Venturi spirit? Fortunately, he only got as far as the garage roof before his back went and Edwin and Lizzie had to lower him to the ground. I've got him booked in with Bonecrusher Bennett in Toronto later this afternoon for some physio. How was Florida?"

"Windy. But significantly warmer than here right now. Ma sends her love by the way. She wants to know when I'm going to make a decent woman of you."

Casey spluttered into her hot chocolate. Steven laughed.

"Oh come on! You know she's always had secret hopes about you and I…ever since you charmed all her country club buddies."

"Steven…"

"It's okay Casey. I've no intention of spoiling any poor bitch's life by saddling her with my sorry ass and you were a lost cause before I even met you."

"What do you mean "lost cause"?" Casey snapped.

"I mean that anyone trying to date you is going to be fighting a losing battle with a ghost."

"What?"

"Derek, Casey. You measure them all up against a mental cardboard cut-out of your dead brother."

"Ew Steven! That's just sick!"

Steven looked surprised. "You and Derek?"

"What? No that's just unsettling. I meant the "brother" comment."

Their eyes met and to Steven's surprise he saw amusement in Casey too.

"What's the coffee in aid of?" Casey asked. "I mean I know we often have coffee together, but it's only been ten days since the last one…there's something else, isn't there?"

Steven sighed. She wasn't going to like this…in fact it was going to get ugly and he was secretly sore at the administration of the hospital for forcing him to be the one to break it to her.

"Case. You know I love you."  
"Ugh Steven! Your mother really did a number on you this time, didn't she?"

"No no. It's just…vacation time, Casey. I'm sorry."

Casey glared at him. "They got to you, didn't they? Traitor!"

He breathed heavily. "Yes. They got to me, but I'm also sure they are right."

"Right? Surely whether I decide to take vacation time is my business…and I just took the weekend off."

"Casey, sweetie, you have ninety days of time-owing. That's three fucking months, babe! You need a break. A proper break."

"What I need is for you and your administrator pals to give me exactly that. I'm fine, Steven."

"You aren't. You're strung up…wrung out and just plain exhausted. You exist on coffee and adrenaline."

Casey looked crushed. "I'm better than I was." She protested. "Since Mikey…"

"Since you started an internet romance with a guy you've never met…Yeah sure…that sounds perfectly sane to me."  
"It's not…"  
"Yes. It is. I've seen you. You check your blackberry every 30 seconds, you blush when there's an email and hell, you've started dressing better. You know, you'd be even better if you just bit the bullet and met the guy."

"I can't. He isn't local."

"Casey, you can. Take vacation time, go meet the mystery guy, have mystery guy sex. Maybe it works…maybe it doesn't, but at least you used up some vacation time, and the admin team will get off my freaking back."

"It's not like that. I can't meet him. He's fiercely private."

"Even to you?"

"Especially to me. He some kind of cop and it's dangerous for me to know."

Steven snorted. "And you believed that crap?"

"I can't Steven!"

"…You can Casey." Marti said later that night when Casey got home. "Steven's right. You need a break."

"Fine. I'll go to California, Florida, Hawaii…." Casey said, resolved.

"Good. Book something. I want to see a print out of a flight itinerary within twenty four hours or I'm booking you on a train to Ottawa."

Casey frowned. "What's in Ottawa?"

"Mikey…remember?"

"Mikey's in Ottawa?"  
"You know he is. He told you. I'm serious…you know you could go to Ottawa."

"Do you have any idea how big Ottawa is? What am I supposed to do? Turn up and start knocking on doors? And like he's really going to want me there even if I find him! If he wanted me then he would have told me where he was."

Marti said nothing because Casey had a point. If Derek did want her to know it was really him he would have told her where he was a long time ago.

"Look Casey, I'm just saying. Maybe you should go for a vacation and casually slip into conversation that you are in his home city. If he wants to meet you he'll make the effort. If he doesn't…"

"I'll look like a stupid love sick fool who's stalking him."

Marti laughed. "No. You'll look like a woman who needed a vacation and was interested in visiting a city she had heard about from a friend."

"Stalker." Casey muttered. Marti chuckled.

"Just do it, Case."

* * *

"I don't care!" Derek shouted into the phone. "They have a centre of operations somewhere…find it!" he slammed down the phone. "Dammit!"

"No luck?" Jazz asked carefully. Derek shook his head.

"The garage was cleared out before we got there and Colin reckons it was a decoy anyway. Shit! We need a breakthrough and soon. They're being patient upstairs but it won't last."

Jazz regarded his friend carefully. "You okay? You seem tense anyway."

Derek shrugged. "I'm fine."

"Still talking to that chick?"  
"Chick?"

"Don't play the innocent with me Mikey. You've been obsessing over her for a long time now."

"Obsessing?"

Jazz laughed and shook his head in disbelief. "That good huh?"

Derek groaned and walked away as if to go check something. The reality was he _was_ obsessing and he didn't like it. Re-initiating contact with Casey had been a mistake because now he couldn't sever the ties without seriously upsetting her - and it left his whole family vulnerable.

He didn't understand his need to maintain the link with her. He put it down to needing to reconnect with the whole family – to know how they were doing. But it was more than that. Casey as the link to the Venturis was not the reason he had told Marti it would be him that got hurt – nor was it the reason he sent Casey the necklace.

This couldn't continue. Spike had made it clear when he had pulled Derek in after Christmas and torn a strip off him for putting himself and his family in danger by sending her a Christmas gift. Every contact with Casey was another opportunity for his past to catch up with him. He was going to have to break with her again…just as soon as he found the right way to do it.

His pocket vibrated and he pulled his blackberry out expecting to see an email from Casey. Instead, it was from Marti.

_Casey is coming to Ottawa. Don't freak, it's just for a vacation, not because she's looking for Mikey. When I know where she is staying I'll let you know…then it's up to you whether you contact her._

Derek groaned. Could life get anymore complicated?

But later, as he went to see an informant, he considered Marti's information. Maybe this was his answer. Maybe the way to break contact with Casey was to do it in person. Once she realised that it was him she would surely not be as keen to continue with their correspondence.

Of course, she would then know that he was alive, but if he swore her to secrecy he could stop her telling the rest of the family.

Yes! This was a good thing…probably.

He hit Reply on his phone and typed one word. _Okay_.

* * *

Casey had tried to word the email several times and it wasn't working. She just couldn't find a way to tell him without it sounding as though she was stalking him. In the end, she just typed.

"I'm on vacation for three weeks from next week so I'm not sure when I'll have the time to email you. Marti's persuaded me to come to Ottawa. It sounds random but it's been a while since my junior high school trip and I fancied some culture."

Derek looked at the words trying to figure out how to reply.

"Sounds like you need it. I'll probably be away myself but I'm sure I'll talk to you at some point." _In person?_ He wasn't sure yet.

"That would be good. Just in case you were wondering…I'm not stalking you. It was Marti's suggestion and I didn't come up with a reason not to quickly enough."  
"That's fine Casey."  
"I mean…if you are around and want to meet up…that would be…good too." She paused and then typed quickly. "Now I really do sound like a stalker."

"No you don't. I just…don't know if I'll be in town."

"That's okay. I don't want to be the acquaintance you regret. We do get on…don't we?"

"Yes."

"Good. I mean…I know what we have is confrontational but I do like you, Mikey." Casey paused. "A lot more than I should."

Knowing Casey, knowing what that admission meant, Derek felt like a complete shit.

* * *

"What's up?" Marti looked up from the television as Casey came in. It didn't take a genius to work out that she was upset. She was doing the usual Casey "pace".

"I told him." Casey said to Marti.

"Told him what?" Marti asked.

"Told him that I was going to Ottawa."

"Good. He needed to know." Marti said. Casey continued to pace.

"There's more." She went on. Marti nodded.

"Go on."

"I sort of told him I was falling for him." Casey admitted.


	16. Mr Venturi I presume

It was cold; so fucking cold that Derek thought his big toe was about to fall off and he was fairly sure his little toes had jumped ship three hours ago. He watched Jazz cross the street balancing two coffees and some other Styrofoam carton. The manoeuvre was not the easiest because the ground was still thick with snow in places where the snow plough couldn't reach. Derek reached across and pulled the door catch so that the door swung open.

"It's cold enough to freeze your balls off out there!" Jazz said as soon as the door was closed behind him."

Derek took the lid off his own coffee and sniffed it suspiciously.

"Jesus Mikey, just drink it! They don't have a Starbucks round here. You have to make do with sludge." He elbowed the Styrofoam carton in Derek's direction. "Here! This'll take the edge off."

His partner tentatively opened the carton to reveal an indecent number of pastries and cakes.

"I said get a coffee, not rob a baker's." Derek complained.

Jazz lifted out a large gooey pastry. "Well if you won't…" He said and stuffed the item into his own mouth.

"You're an animal, Jazz." Derek as he reached for a gooey cake of his own.

His friend grinned almost revealing the mouthful of pastry goods and Derek thought it was amusing that there was so much of his own character in that of his friend.

"The girls all love me though." Jazz mumbled through the food. Derek laughed at yet another check mark.

"I know one who'd run a mile from you, asshole." He said without thinking, breaking his "don't talk about Casey" rule.  
"Is this your secret cyber chick I'm not supposed to know anything about?"  
"She'd say you were uncouth or something." Derek informed his friend, ignoring the question.

"I'm what?"  
"Uncouth…it means…"

"I know what it fucking means. It means you're whipped if you're suddenly spouting words from a damn posh chick book."

"There is nothing wrong with knowing the meaning of certain words." Derek said gazing out of the window before chomping on his cake.

"Did _she_ tell you that?"

Derek snorted. "I make it a point of knowing what I'm being accused of."

"In other words, yes." Jazz smirked. Derek pointed at him with the remains of his food.

"Casey knows things…and if you value your reputation – and your balls, it helps to know them too."

Jazz raised an eyebrow. "Casey? Is that Cyber Chick's name?"

"Never mind, Jazz."

"Aw! Come on Mikey. We're going to be stuck here watching this damn café in the freezing cold until something happens or we die of frostbite, at least let me have some decent entertainment while we're at it. What's the problem? Is she fugly?"

Derek rolled his eyes at the term – and his friend's assumption. "No. She's just off limits, dude."

"I wasn't planning on jumping her. I just want to know who she is…what's she's like and why you've got your panties in a twist over her."  
"I've what?"

"Oh come on. You've been jumping every time your phone vibrates for months now and when you do, you get this little smirk on your lips. Hey! Is she _married_?"

"No."

"Are you?"

"What? No!"

"So tell me…"

"I can't Jazz. It isn't safe for me to tell you. You know…_tell no one_…and all that crap."

"Not even just a description? You don't have to tell me her name or where she lives or anything. And since when can't you trust _me_?"

"I don't trust anyone, Jay."

"Seriously, Mikey…? Aren't you taking the department rules just a little too far? So what…? You on the run for mass-murder or something?"

"Not funny, Jazz."

There was silence for a moment and then Derek sighed. "Okay. I'll tell you a little about her but not specifics…will that make you shut up?"  
Jazz straightened in the car seat. "Name? Wait! I already know her name's Casey. Description?"

"She's medium height, brunette, blue eyes, dancer's figure…"

"Beautiful?"

Derek smiled. "No comment."  
"Ha! So she _is_ fugly!"

"I wish." Derek murmured quietly.

"She's beautiful then."

Derek nodded.

"And off-limits to me." Jazz pulled a face. Derek laughed.

"And me."

"You lied! She _is_ married!"

"No. The reason she's off limits is one of the reasons why I can't tell you anything about her."

"Oh. Is she a previous case?"  
"Quit guessing. I ain't tellin'."

Jazz drained his coffee and squeezed the cup tightly. "You've been talking to her over the wire?"  
"Yeah. Against my better judgement."

"Why?"  
"Because everything about Casey is against my better judgement. She kinda does that to me."

"No I meant why have you been talking to her? Did you meet her on the internet or did you know her before."  
"I knew her before."

"Oooh. She's your past? One of your exes?" It was said through a mouthful of food again.

Derek shrugged. "Not in the way you mean."

"You're fucking irritating you know that don't you, you smug bastard."

His partner laughed. "I'm not trying to be. I knew her a long time ago…in another life. We had a very tempestuous relationship…"

"…you _were_ sleeping with her!" Jazz was eyeing up another pastry.

"No. We had a mutual loathing of each other."

"So why are you in touch now?"  
"Because I miss her."

Jazz peppered Derek with questions for the rest of the afternoon, but all he got were general comments and nothing specific. He teased Derek relentlessly, and Derek retaliated with his own remarks about the small amount he did know about Jazz's own background.

And the whole time, the two men watched the back entrance to the ramshackle café where Jazz had bought the coffee – and where someone knew something about Grubby's death.

* * *

It was getting dark and it was getting colder. Derek was sitting in the driver's seat because it was Jazz's turn to sneak out and relieve himself in one of the many alleyways nearby. Derek watched shop owners closing up their stores, rolling down shutters to protect their livelihoods – although given the neighbourhood and the tenants, the value of the contents of the entire street probably came to less than Derek's own apartment. The cold, wet weather meant no one was taking their time about shutting up and leaving. Everyone, Derek included, was eager to be home and warm.

A very long time afterwards, when the events were passed and he had leisure to consider it, Derek would realise it was the slowness which drew his attention in. The slow deliberate way that the guy was walking across the street as if he was enjoying a warm summer's night and had all the time in the world, rather than leaving a café on the snowy winter's eve with its piercing wind.

About the same time as Derek's hackles went up, Jazz emerged from his makeshift urinal and made his own more normal, hurried way back to the car, shivering. He reached it just as Derek noticed the semi-automatic weapon beneath the slow guy's coat; about ten seconds before Derek's eyes met those of the shadowy figure approaching and five seconds before Derek registered the dark sedan turning into the street about a block up.

_Shit!_

"Get in the fucking car!" Derek shouted to his partner, starting the engine. "They've fucking _made_ us!"

Experience made Jazz react without further questions and he dived into the car, his head hitting Derek's hip and his legs still hanging out of the car as Derek squeezed the vehicle out from their hiding place. Two hundred yards later, Jazz finally got his legs in the car and the door slammed shut with the momentum as Derek took the next corner at something approaching full speed.

Jazz righted himself and grabbed hold of the hanging strip to stop being thrown against the door.

"Now I know why it's called a "Holy shit handle"." Jazz commented wryly. Derek laughed, despite the situation.

"Sorry. That ape had piece under his coat and a look in his eye that said he wanted to play "See who can blink first". Are they still following us?"  
Jazz turned awkwardly in his seat. About half a block behind them, the dark sedan was still following them, the traffic currently light because they were in a suburb. "Yup. You gonna lose 'em now or next Christmas?"

Derek threw him a disgusted look. "You wanna fucking drive?"

"Nah! I crash cars remember? Besides, it's rush hour. I hate driving in fucking rush hour."

"Then shut the fuck up, asshole!"

Jazz did exactly that, merely monitoring the mirrors and occasionally turning around in his seat to look behind. After Derek took a large roundabout with his wheels an inch off the ground, Jazz calmly reached behind his own shoulder and pulled the seatbelt out and around himself, clicking the buckle into its slot. Derek snorted.

"Don't trust my driving?"

His partner flashed him a grin. "I'd be fine if we were in your car, then I know you'd keep the wheels on the ground. This department shit though…" His voice trailed away. "What happened?" he asked eventually, jerking his head back towards the car behind.

"The big guy came out of the café but something wasn't right. Just as you got back to the car I saw the gun and the car coming up the street and the big guy accidentally met my eyes. They spotted us, Jazz. They called in the clowns."  
Jazz nodded, his eyes flicking to his wing mirror. "Evidently." He rubbed the new crop of stubble on his chin thoughtfully. "_When_ d'ya reckon they spotted us?"  
Derek shrugged. "God knows. Could have been minutes before, could have been early in the day and they were just waiting for the light to fade. Did anything happen when you went into the café for that first coffee?"  
The other guy shook his head. "I told you. None of the targets were there."

"You recognised _no one_?" Derek pushed, jerking his head from the road to look at his partner. Jazz said nothing.

"Jazz?" Derek's voice sounded uneasy.

"There was this girl." Jazz began.

"Jesus! Can't you keep it in your pants?" Derek said exasperatedly.

Jazz sat forward, shaking his head. "Nah, Dude, you misunderstand me. I meant there was a girl in there…about nineteen…twenty at a push. Not my type or anything, but I felt like I recognised her from somewhere."

"Please tell me you didn't use that line on her."

"I wasn't trying to pick her up, Mikey. I didn't speak to her or anything. I just had the feeling I've seen her before somewhere. And the way she looked at me was as though she knew me too."

They sat in silence whilst Derek skilfully twisted and turned the car through the streets filled with rush hour traffic. After about ten minutes, to his relief a large truck started to reverse across a narrow street in front of them. Derek mounted the icy sidewalk and squeezed the car through a tiny gap – much to the delivery driver's horror- as the truck quickly closed the gap leaving their pursuers behind.

Derek headed out onto the main road and floored the car putting as much distance between them and their former tail as possible.

Back at the department, they briefed Spike and took the accompanying ass-chewing stoically – Derek pointing out that at least this time they hadn't totalled the pool car. Spike wasn't impressed. He wasn't impressed with Jazz's belief that there had been something about the girl in the café either. Their boss put the blowing of their stake out down to incompetence on their part – and their inability to sit in a cold car for six hours without a pee. Jazz left the small office muttering about moronic, inhuman authority figures – and about going through the files to look for the girl.

Derek, at the insistence of his boss, stayed put.

"How's it going?" Spike asked.

Derek frowned, wondering if Spike had zoned out during the previous fifteen minute grilling. Spike rolled his eyes.

"I meant you dealing with the past." What he really meant was Derek's decision to sever ties with Casey again.

"It's in hand." Derek answered.

"I was hoping you'd tell me it was done."  
"I've had to wait for information. I didn't know where to go." Derek said cryptically because of the risk of bugs. Spike nodded. Derek needed to know where Casey was staying in Ottawa before he could go and see her.

"ETA?" Spike asked. Derek shrugged.

"When she gets here. I don't even know if she has left yet."

* * *

At about that moment, Casey was just approaching her hotel. She too had spent today behind the wheel, leaving her apartment more than seven hours ago and she felt worn out. In typical Casey fashion, she had stopped at the recommended two hourly intervals for a comfort break and coffee, and she had spent the entire journey listening to "talking books" from some of her favourite authors. But even she was beginning to think she should have flown instead.

Marti had tried to talk her out of it, sitting crossed legged on Casey's bed even as she packed the previous night.

"Seriously, sis. You're crazy!"

"I know. I really shouldn't be going should I?" Casey said, flopping on to the bed beside her. "I mean, you've only just moved in and…"

"What? No…of course you should be going. I can't remember the last vacation you took…unless it was that camping trip with the family the summer before Derek died." Casey said nothing and shifted uncomfortably. Marti's eyes widened.

"Casey that was seven years ago! Even I've had a vacation since then!"

"I know. I got busy."

"No wonder they want you to take time off. You must have the hospital record for the number of days-owed."

Her sister sighed. "I just never saw the need…I still don't see the need."

Marti muttered something about perspective and getting a life.

"I have a life." Casey protested.

"No. You have an existence and when you get to your hotel you need to get straight on to your laptop and send Mikey your room number so that you can get a life."

"You want me to sleep with a random stranger I met over the internet?" Casey gasped. Marti looked taken aback.

"Sleep with? No! I want you to realise that the world doesn't revolve around one person."  
"I don't think that the world revolves around me, Smarti." Casey said softly.

"I wasn't talking about you. I was talking about my dumm-ass brother."

Casey said nothing, just stood up and continued to pack. Marti's eyes widened as she saw her sister pick up her medical case and stack it near the door.

"Casey…" She reprimanded.

"What? I'm a doctor and I'd never forgive myself if I failed to save someone's life because I didn't have the right stuff with me."

Marti groaned and gave up.

* * *

Casey had never been to France, although she could recall a time when she was obsessed with the country, its capital city, its architecture and culture. If she had visited she was fairly certain she would have seen buildings like the one she was currently entering. It might be located in the Canadian capital, but to be honest, its resemblance to the dramatic French chateau structures was one of the main reasons why she picked this hotel. It was expensive, but she figured she was allowed to push the boat out, given as this was her first vacation in seven years – and the last one had been under canvas lying between snoring George and moaning Marti.

The regal elegance of her surroundings made her feel dirty and unkempt as she made her way into Reception, but if that was the impression she gave, the reception staff at their grey marbled desk did not comment. Before long, having passed through the wood-panelled lobby which made her sigh in contentment, she was ensconced in her room. Here, the elegance was more understated, but present all the same. She sat in the quirky little turret area where the writing desk was situated, watching the cold night time scene below her, and smiled. Maybe a vacation had been a good idea after all!

Her stomach made its presence felt with a loud growl and she chuckled to herself and slipped the folder containing the room service menu out from under the other papers. Tomorrow she would venture downstairs to the restaurant but tonight all she wanted was a shower and something to eat whilst she perused the various guide books she had brought with her.

Yes! Finally, she was looking forward to this!

Food was quickly ordered, but there was a twenty minute wait, so Casey decided to address the grimy feel of her skin and the tired ache of her arm muscles by treating both to a soak in a deep bath. She moved to the smart well-appointed bathroom, stripping the clothes from her body as she went. The bathroom had been newly re-furbished and she sank beneath the soapy water gratefully, wondering why it had taken her so long to take a vacation – and whether she could extend it indefinitely!

As the warmth soothed her muscles and the water lapped her skin, she contemplated emailing Mikey. Maybe she wouldn't send him her room number. Maybe she would pick a public place and ask him to meet her there.

After ten minutes, aware that the time for the room service to arrive was drawing close. Casey emptied the bath and rinsed her hair with the shower. She dried herself with soft fluffy towels of a whiteness you _only_ find in hotels, and slipped into the cool, silky nightshirt she had treated herself to the previous day. She was starting to feel human for the first time in a very long while.

Casey was combing her damp hair in front of the vanity mirror when there was a knock at the door. She smiled, put down the hairbrush, slid her bathrobe on and crossed the room.

"Room service." A voice called from the other side of the door. Casey pulled open the door and let the young waiter enter with a large tray of food – and a bottle of wine. He moved to the small table in what was set out as the "living room" portion of the open space, and placed the tray on the table top. Casey hovered and when requested, signed the paperwork, adding a generous tip because she was in a good mood. Finally she closed the door behind him and turned back into the room.

Warm, sweet smells were pervading the air and her mood improved further even as her stomach growled. Quickly, she lifted the metal dome and surveyed the plate of steak and fries. Casey normally avoided red meat, but she was in the mood for a treat. She poured herself a large glass of wine and sat down.

There was another knock at the door.

Figuring it was the waiter returned with condiments or something she sipped her wine, placed the glass on the table and walked to the door. She opened it without thinking –and without looking through the peephole.

"It's okay." She announced as she opened the door. "I've got all the sauce I need."

"Yup. I coulda told you that princess." said Derek Venturi, leaning up against the door frame. He beamed at her. "It's been a long time. Miss me?"

Casey stared at the figure in front of her in astonishment for about ten seconds. Derek watched as every emotion he had ever seen her experience – and then some – passed across her features.

Finally, her face settled with an expression of disbelief, and he momentarily wondered if she was about to faint from the shock.

Then the air was knocked from his own body as something hit him hard in the solar plexus. He looked down as a vice tightened around his chest and his nose filled with the warm pleasant smell of newly-bathed Casey. Her arms were flung around him and she was clinging to him in a way that made him wonder if she would ever let go. It also made him realised she was wearing very little clothing, and absolutely _no_ underwear!

She raised her face to look at him, her eyes full of tears that brought a lump to his own throat.

And before he could move or say anything, Casey McDonald kissed Derek Venturi soundly on the mouth.


	17. The Beginning of a Tale

As quickly and as tightly as she had gripped him, the weight and support disappeared and he stumbled forward into her hotel room. Bewildered, Derek straightened and a nanosecond later the blow hit him square on the side of his face. It stung and left a bright pink hand mark, but Derek didn't have time to register that fact before the same hand yanked him further into the room by his shirt front and the door slammed shut behind him.

And then he was being forced backwards into the closed door and pressed up against the "In Case of Fire" instructions nailed to the dark wood. The force which had shoved him now poked a finger in his face and Derek, the hard-nosed cop of six years standing forgot all his training and could do nothing but blink.

"You _bastard_! How could you? Do you have any idea what the family has gone through over your sorry behind? [_jab_] The tears Marti shed? [_jab_] The closed look in Edwin's eyes? [_jab_] The arguments between Mom and George, and the way Robbie spent six months asking when Derek was going to stop hiding and play with him? [_jab, jab, jab_] And Sam and Ralph…I haven't heard either of them laugh the way they used to! Those people love you…cared that you " died"! But of course, you didn't! [_hands raised in the air right under his nose_] So all their grief was for nought! You can't screw with people's lives like that Derek!" she started to turn away. _You can't mess with ME like this!_ Casey's heart continued in silence.

"I can explain…" he stepped forward and Casey spun back round forcing him to flinch.

"Oh believe me…you _are going to explain_! In full! Just as soon as I have my bearings – and my breath back." She put her hand to her chest and inhaled deeply, letting out the breath shakily. Then her eyes narrowed as she looked at him. "Who knows? That you're alive, I mean."

She asked the question whilst wondering briefly if this was some massive anti-Casey prank he had somehow convinced everyone to take part in.

But of course then she remembered the long nights of tears with their family and knew none of them would have been able to fake that level of distress and grief. Especially since some of them were just children at the time.

And with the thoughts of her younger siblings, Marti's comment from last night came to mind suddenly. She had said something about Casey learning that not everything in the world revolved around Derek. Well evidently her sister had got _that_ wrong! The evidence was standing in front of her looking… _sheepish_?

Casey wondered what Marti would make of Derek being alive. She thought of her little sister sleeping alone (hopefully!) back at home in Casey's apartment. Marti had been so keen for Casey to come to Ottawa, to meet Mikey, to…

Casey stopped the thought process as another one took over. If the only people who knew where Casey was staying were her and Marti, how the hell did Derek know?

"How the hell did you know where I would be?" She asked repeating the question aloud.

Derek scratched the back of his neck. "Marti told me." He said reluctantly, knowing the revelation would hurt both of his "sisters".

"Marti is in on this?" Casey stared at him unable to believe that two of the most important people in her life had kept this from her. Casey's faith in Derek was limited, but she _had_ trusted Marti.

Derek watched as Casey's trust in the world around her crumbled. The expression on her face mirrored exactly that disintegration, and she melted into a sobbing heap at his feet. Derek slid down the door to the floor beside her.

"Marti loves you Casey. She wasn't trying to hurt you."

"Yet, she couldn't tell me you were alive? _That's_ love? And what's _your_ excuse?"

Derek sighed. "Don't be sore at her. She couldn't tell you everything because she doesn't _know_ everything."

"How long _has_ she known you were alive?" Casey managed to choke out from where her exhausted head rested against her knees. She had thought she was tired after the driving. Now, after so much more emotional turmoil, she was physically and emotionally drained.

"Since before Christmas." Derek paused. "When you told her about Mikey. She read my Facebook page and Mikey's. She put two and two together and emailed Mikey."

Casey looked up. "Mikey?"

Mikey!

Where did _he_ fit into this? _Marti wanted Casey to meet Mikey._

Casey had been going to contact him when she arrived, but she hadn't had time yet. And now she really wanted to know…Who was Mikey? And…

Derek closed his eyes and then Casey knew.

"You're "Mikey" aren't you?" Her tone was empty because she had nothing left.

"Princess…"

Casey's eyes flashed and she stood up.

"You stop that! I'm not your "princess" and I never have been. I have no idea what you've been playing at for the last seven years Derek Venturi…maybe whatever it is was justified…but I am telling you now that I will _never_ forgive you for "Mikey"!" She hissed. Her face was sarcastic, her fingers curling into little speech marks. "_That_ was underhand, cruel and unnecessary. I may forgive you for whatever you've done since I last saw you, but _that_ part. For "Mikey"…NEVER!"

And Derek believed her. He rested his head down on his knees and clasped his hands around the back of his head in defeat.

From the outside looking in, even the appearance of the scene was a dramatic one. Derek sitting on the floor, his knees bent and his head in his hands, Casey standing over him, hands on hips, defiant…challenging despite the streams of tears on her cheeks. Derek looked up at her and she saw pain in his eyes; pain and the beginnings of tears. Her shoulders slumped.

"I need to know, Derek."

He stood up and moved further into the room, brushing past her. "Nowhere near as much as I need to tell."

For a moment all was silent. Derek looked behind her at the tray still lying on the table. Whilst it felt like the drama had been going on for hours, in reality it had been little more than five minutes and the steam was still rising from the plate.

"Is that your dinner?"

Casey nodded and walked towards him.

"You should eat. This will take a while."

"I'm not hungry anymore." Casey said stubbornly.

He shook his head. "I didn't ask if you were hungry, I said you should eat."

"_You_ eat it." She hissed back and Derek could hear the anger in her voice again. "How about we share it and that bottle of wine and I'll tell you what's been going on?"

Casey looked at him coldly.

"The truth, Derek. No lies. No stupid tales about being a cop and friends dying in horrific circumstances."

He nodded. "I agree. Although," He said, reaching behind him to remove the Glock from the small of his back and placing it carefully on the dresser. "I think you'll find that there are fewer lies between us than you believe." He pulled his ID from his jeans pocket and tossed that onto the bed next to where she was standing. Casey reached down and picked up the little plastic wallet containing his shield.

"Inspector Michael Essen." She read. "Department 15. RCMP." Casey looked up and even in her anger, the amusement was plain. "You _are_ a mountie?"

"Technically."

"Derek, it says RCMP here. Unless that is an acronym for Really Conceited Moronic Pig, you're a Mountie!" She laughed and moved to the phone.

"What are you doing?" Derek asked nervously.

"I'm calling down to Reception to see if Valet Parking will give Trigger a rub down and mash while we're talking. Where did you tie him?"

"Ha freaking ha! I don't have a horse…I don't even have a uniform, okay?"

Casey dropped her hand from the phone. "So Department 15 is…?" She curved her eyebrow and folded her arms.

"Only a small part of a very long story, which will be easier to hear over food…and a very large glass of wine."

* * *

In fact, they waited until the food was eaten and cleared, sharing a meal together for the first time in seven years; "Sharing" being the operative word since they ate the food from the same plate. Derek was still hungry when they had finished so he made her phone down for more fries and two bowls of chocolate ice cream…and another bottle of wine.

When it arrived, Casey took the wine from the waiter and held onto it firmly after the guy had left.

"Derek, I'm tired. I've been driving all day, I've had an almighty shock and quite frankly seven years without a vacation has just hit me in the butt like a billy goat. Before you or I touch anymore alcohol, I need answers: Big ones, Humongous ones."

"Okay. Where do you want me to start?"

"The beginning would be good." She said, settling herself cross-legged on the bed and handing the bottle of wine to him.

"The beginning…hmmm." Derek mused placing the wine on the side and leaning back in his chair, tapping his glass against his nose thoughtfully. "You remember the run up to the hockey play-offs in my last season at Queens?"

Casey nodded, wondering how the guy in front of her could go from a young lackadaisical hockey player to an older hardened cop who looked like he could kill without batting an eyelid. Derek may still look like Derek but there were subtle changes that told her this guy was different, less slap-dash and carefree, more disciplined and determined.

"The coach arranged a tour of other hockey teams in the province, some of them bigger, some of them smaller…remember? You were sore because I got to travel free of charge while you were studying for mid-terms."

Casey nodded and Derek began his story.

* * *

"After a particularly sweet victory…which was totally down to yours truly,"

_Okay, thought Casey, he hasn't changed that much! _

"…the guys and I showered and dressed, planning on going into the local town for some R+R."

Casey snorted. "You mean girls and alcohol."

Derek rolled his eyes.

"You have a really bad opinion of me don't you? Yes I had a couple of beers – but I wasn't drunk. Yes there were girls there, but I wasn't interested. I was still seeing Debbie at that point and I've never needed to be a "pick 'em up in a strip joint" kind of guy. Anyway, about halfway through the evening, I realised I'd left my phone in the locker room, so I ditched the guys and got a cab back to the rink. Long story short, I found my phone but on the way out I almost walked in on a weird conversation between two guys. One of them was our team doc and the other was some strange guy I'd never see before – but he looked hard.

I overheard them discussing some sort of clinical trial and I would have completely passed them by and not bothered to hide myself, but then I heard my own name – and I had to stay and listen."

Derek drained his wine glass and poured another.

"The more I listened to the conversation, the more I realised that something very serious was going on. The "trial" wasn't a clinical trial at all, but the systematic doping of certain team members with steroids – including me. I had known nada about it. You see, while you are training, the doc and his team sort you out with the right isotonic drinks and energy bars. Our doc was taking the opportunity to slip key players a little something extra to boost their muscle tone."

"Isn't that illegal?" Casey asked. Derek gave her an exasperated look.

"No shit Sherlock!"

He went on. "I heard the stranger mention something about shipments of a new type of steroid, and I heard him mention a couple of names – and then the two guys left. I waited for a while to make sure they had gone, and then I went outside and called a cab.

When we got back to Kingston the following day, I was a mess inside. I couldn't work out what to do – if anything – about what I had found out. Someone I trusted was drugging me and my teammates. I didn't trust anything I ate or drank for a long time after that."

"Wait! I remember when you got back from that tour. You were a nightmare. You snapped at everything and everyone. Debbie dumped you soon afterwards and I was convinced you'd met someone while you were away."

"Like you said, I couldn't function because I wasn't sleeping and I wasn't eating. Debbie dumped me because I completely ignored her and she couldn't handle it."

_That figures!_

"I was the guy who always knew exactly what to do…and this time, the shit I was in was too deep to wade through.

After a fortnight, I decided I had had enough. I waited until I was in London again, and I went to see a friend of Dad's from law school. I knew he would advise me what to do."

"A lawyer?"

"A lawyer. Who told me I needed to "Do the right thing" and go to the police. So I did and he came with me. And fuck me what a storm that was! They called in some hot shot Security Service guy who was investigating sports betting and he was very interested in what I had to say. I had several interviews with Spike and some of the guys from his department in Toronto and eventually, they decided to use me to find out more information."

"Why?" Casey asked.

"What do you mean, "why?"" Derek frowned.

"Why did you go through with it?"

Derek shrugged. "I guess I like the idea of being a spy." He admitted. "Shit…If I had known, I would have left the team, kept my mouth shut…anything!"

He rubbed his eyes. "They briefed me on what to do, what information they wanted. They gave me listening devices and photographs of guys who were linked to the betting scam. Spike believed that the whole set up was to fix games for organised crime. You know, make sure the outcome of games was predictable – to them.

I monitored the doc for a while, got them the information they wanted. Then they sprung the biggy on me. I would be needed to testify and because of the type of info I'd found, I would need to go into some sort of witness protection until the trial date – and maybe after."

Derek stood up and crossed to the bed where he sat down beside Casey.

"I knew I was leaving – possibly permanently. I didn't like it, but I agreed to it, because I thought it was the right thing to do. When I first started playing hockey, one of my NHL idols spoke out about steroid abuse and about how fair play was an integral part of any sport. I guess it stuck with me."

Derek tilted his head to look at Casey.

"Dan's party came up just before I was due to "disappear" and I thought it would give me the ideal opportunity to clear the air with you. I didn't want to leave unfinished business between us. I know you. I knew that you would find some way to take the blame for my disappearance to beat on yourself because of it. So I made the effort with you that night. I just wanted to say sorry…but when you hugged me back, I wished I'd made that decision sooner. There was still more to be said. I regretted so much."

"So did I Derek. So did I." They stared at each other for a moment before Casey straightened. "So that's what this is about? Witness protection?"

Derek shook his head.

"No. That was what was supposed to happen. But something went wrong. Someone got wind of what I had been up to. Before I could disappear, the order was given by the gambling syndicate to make me disappear in a more permanent way."

Casey's eyes widened, but she couldn't say anything.

"The bank robbery was a hit." Derek explained. "They tried to kill me."

"They very nearly succeeded." Casey interjected. "Do you have any idea what the odds of surviving a gun shot wound like that are?"

"Five percent. And I'm reminded of it every time I walk through an airport scanner. I have a metal plate in my skull now."

Derek expected a sarcastic comment but none was forthcoming. Casey sighed.

"I can't joke about it Derek. I was there. I saw the mess of your skull. I held your bloody hand."

* * *

**AN: I've had to split it again…**


	18. Second Life

"_I can't joke about it Derek. I was there. I saw the mess of your skull. I held your bloody hand."_

Derek reached across and took her hand from her lap and linked their fingers. Casey let him, needing the comfort to get her through the next section of his story. She had been there, she had lived it. Anger had to be relegated to second place behind the sadness she would experience over the next few minutes.

"I don't remember anything after I turned away from the ATM." Derek said, reassured that she hadn't hit him again. He tightened his grip on her fingers. "Nothing until I woke up in hospital."

Casey took a deep breath. "Do you want me to tell you what happened?"

He nodded. She sighed.

"I was at home when I got the call. Apparently, one of the people who fled the bank when they saw the gunman was at school with us. She had recognised you and called me. She was in hysterics saying that you were inside the bank and there was a gunman."

Casey looked down at their linked hands relishing the fact that his fingers were warm again where they had been cold the last time she had held them. Seven years ago.

"I thought it was a prank but even I heard the gun shot. I dropped the phone and ran. By the time I got to the bank everything was cordoned off and the place was crawling with police and paramedics. They didn't want to let me in because they were trying to stabilise you but in the end one of the doctors gave the police a look and they let me past the cordon."

"That's against the procedures." Derek said.

In another time, Casey would have found his need for the rulebook to be amusing in a "hell freezing over" kind of way.

"They let me in because you were going to die, Derek and they thought you should have family with you."

"Family? You told them I was your brother, didn't you?"

Casey blushed. "No. I knew we'd end up arguing over the surname on my driving licence. Actually I told them I was your fiancée."

Derek stared at her. "That was just…" He paused and grinned. "…resourceful." He conceded. Casey chuckled.

"Yeah. I can't believe I did it either! Mom and George were at work and I couldn't get hold of them. I played a part so they would take me with you."

"That's against the rules too."  
"I'm persuasive."

"You did that cute little hair toss/verbal blurt thing didn't you?" Derek said in an amused tone.

"I was desperate."

"So what happened?"

"They decided you were as stable as they were going to get you, and then called for a helicopter transfer to Toronto. When they told me that was where you were going, I rang Sam and asked him to meet me there – he hadn't got home from college yet and was still there. I also asked him to keep trying Mom and George while we were in the air."

Casey was silent as she remembered the flight. The normal air transport had been on another call so instead they had called through to the 424 Transport and Rescue squadron at Trenton and there had been more than enough room on board the Griffon military rescue helicopter for Casey to travel with them.

In the weeks after Derek's death, the SJST senior hockey team had played the Queen's second hockey squad in a memorial game for Derek to raise money for the paramedics and air crew who had tried to save his life.

Correction: Casey reminded herself. For the paramedics and air crew who _had_ saved his life. And she was filled with awe and admiration for her colleagues who had succeeded in pulling off a miracle.

"Where are you?" Derek asked quietly. Casey glanced up in surprise, suddenly aware of where she was, and who she was with.

"I was remembering the flight. You "died" three times. And yet still you are here. Those paramedic guys…"Miracle-workers" is too simple a phrase."

"I heard about the memorial game." Derek said. "I wish I could have been there."

"It was Sam's idea. He said you were always going on about how you wanted to organise a match between the old and the new. He was captain."

"What happened when we got to Toronto?" Derek prompted.

Casey sobered and all colour leeched from her face. "We said goodbye." She whispered. "I held your hand and kissed your face once and then they whisked you away from me to surgery. I never saw you again."

It was painful to relate, because even though Derek was alive and with her now, he could so easily have not been. And she had thought him dead for so long.

Derek slipped an arm around her shoulders and she let him pull her in. And he waited until her sobs died away.

After a while, Casey calmed down. Derek detached himself from her and shuffled up the elaborately-dressed bed, settling back against the stack of pillows and holding out his hand to her.

Casey eyed it warily.

"I'm supposed to be pissed at you."

Derek shrugged. "Fine. I'm about to tell you what happened when I woke up. I just thought you'd like to be next to me so that you can beat the crap out of me if you don't like what I tell you."

"Won't I like what you tell me?" Casey asked, crawling up the bed and settling beside him. Derek threw the arm around her again.

"Probably not, because it annoys the fuck out of me."

"I woke up about a month later. They had kept me in an enforced coma to allow my skull to repair, and to monitor me for any blood clots and so on. When I first woke, I couldn't remember anything after that argument we had at breakfast." He grinned. "So basically, I woke up pissed at you."

Casey rolled her eyes. "No change there then." They smiled at each other.

"Gradually, I came to, and asked for my family. They kept telling me that I was in isolation and that it was too soon. Eventually, after a week of being given the run around, I got angry." Derek snorted. "Not that I was in anyway threatening. I was weak and pale, and I couldn't say boo to a goose, but they were worried about my heart rate and my mental state, so eventually they sent in Spike to see me."

Casey felt Derek's fingers brush her shoulder. "I knew he was going to give me bad news as soon as he walked in the room. He looked very, very angry, but I could tell it wasn't aimed at me.

He told me that someone higher up the chain of command had decided that we should go ahead with the plan to put me in Witness Protection…and they had already made the arrangements and killed me off."

Derek's voice had dropped to a whisper. "I lost everything that day, Casey; My entire family. You all lost one person. I lost everything I had ever known: My family, my friends, my career, my past. I had nothing left and no one to turn to except some faceless bureaucrats who had made a major decision about my future without any consultation."

Casey rested her head on his shoulder. "You didn't lose us. We were still there."

"Out of reach." Derek said softly, kissing her head. "I started to dream about you all that night and I haven't really stopped since."

They linked fingers again because Casey knew that a familiar familial touch would mean so much to him – or at least that was what she told herself. The reality was that she needed the contact as much as he did.

"I tried to insist that I was allowed to go back, but that was when Spike took me to one side and spoke to me. He told me that you all thought I was dead. That you had held a funeral and memorials; that you had made donations in my name – and spent long hours crying. He told me that if I went back, I would be targeted again, and this time, they might hurt my family too." He shrugged. "When he put it like that I realised they had left me no choice."

"You could have sent a message." Casey tried. Derek laughed.

"Okay…so I send you a letter saying. "Hey Casey, it's me! Guess what? The bane of your existence is alive and kicking! But the good news is, you won't see me anymore! I've got a new life…and what you always thought - that you'd be better off without me? – hey, sweetheart! IT'S TRUE!"" He stopped. "Yeah…like you'd have taken that one sitting down."

Casey pulled a face. "You're probably right. I'd have made a massive fuss."  
"Which wouldn't have done anyone any good."  
"It would have made me feel better. And it would have pissed you off, which is always a bonus."

Derek snorted. "At least I'd have known you cared."

"You wish!"

Their words belied the conversation their eyes were having. It was familiar and strange at the same time.

They gazed at each other for a long moment until Casey nudged him with her elbow.

"Go on with the story." She prompted.

"So then the question was what to do with me next. And that was where it got messy." Derek continued, once again rubbing her shoulder with his thumb. "The powers-that-be wanted me to go be some pig farmer in Quebec or a car salesman in Detroit. But Spike was still pissed at his superiors. He pulled strings and got himself transferred to Department 15, and when I got out of hospital, he offered me a job. The way he saw it, I stood a chance of surviving if he kept a close eye on me. I adopted a new identity – which he provided the papers for from outside of the department. He arranged for me to receive a substantial compensation payout – which I donated to Dad…"

"…the legacy and the insurance!"

"Nah. Just the legacy. The insurance was real. And because of the nature of the job and my apparent "aptitude" in the initial training, Spike put me through advanced training and signed me up on a substantial salary."

"Which is where we are now." Casey finished for him.

"Give or take the odd hiccup along the seven year way. Yeah. Some cases have been better than others."

"And your own case?"

"Is still open…I never found out who ordered the hit, and I've never found out how they knew about me and my "intelligence" activities. Spike and I have theories but nothing we've ever proven."

"So the danger is still there?"

"Very much so. And I've pissed off a few more people along the way." He smirked. "Including a certain "fiancée"!"

"Oh I think you're safe from me." Casey said. "I'll just turn you over to Marti. I'm sure she has plenty of plans for you. She's had time to be creative, after all she's known about this longer than me."

"I'm sorry about that."

Casey shrugged, dislodging his arm. "I'm annoyed at myself for not realising. Now I start to think about it there were so many clues. I mean, the idea of you telling someone that you wet the bed until you were 10? And who else would remember the vivid details of our little conflicts? Or be interested?"

Derek said nothing. He didn't even try to replace his arm on her shoulder, though he wanted to. He wasn't entirely sure that she hadn't brushed it off deliberately. And to be honest, he needed to start distancing himself; extracting himself. He had come here with a purpose and it was time to follow through on it.

"I admit I left a few clues along the way: clues that only you or Marti would recognise. I wonder why Marti got it before you though? I thought if anyone got it first, it would be you."

Casey didn't reply. She had her own theory about that; she wanted him to be alive so much but knew that believing it would destroy her in the end. So the little signs that it might be true, she had ignored.

"Tell me about Grubby." She said after a while. "Was he real or just part of the bigger lie?" Casey hadn't meant to, but a trace of her anger resurfaced as she spoke.

"Casey, not everything was a lie. I mean, sure I'm alive when I shouldn't be, and I've been living under another name - even fooled you into thinking I _was_ that other person. But otherwise I haven't lied. When you asked where I was, I told you. When you asked what I was doing, I told you as much as I could. Like I said earlier there aren't as many lies between us as you think."

"And Grubby's case?"

"…started out as an investigation into a high-end car ring. It quickly became clear that there was a drugs element to it, and now we are fairly sure the guy behind it all is a major crime boss."

"Like the mafia?"

Derek shook his head. "Nah. Far worse. The Mafia and other major international organisations have rules of their own, codes of conduct. It makes a lot of how they operate predictable. This guy is more of a loner in king pin terms. We know nothing about him – not even his nationality which means we can't tell what his motivations are: politics, religion, racial hatred – or just plain greed. What I can tell you is this guy is barbaric. The stuff that he pulls, the things he sanctions… the sooner we neutralise him the better."

Casey thought back to what she remembered of their conversations. "You were in Vancouver?"

"I was supposed to be making contact with an organisation that Spike wanted an "in" on. I didn't know it at the time but it was part of the current investigation. Spike wanted me to go in undercover."  
"I thought Grubby went in undercover?" Casey said.

"Yeah. That was supposed to be me."

Casey twisted to look at him. "Seriously?"

Derek nodded. "Fortunately for me at least, Jazz's contact screwed the pooch with the info. They got it right the second time around – or so we thought. Grubby went in this time because Spike was worried I was a security risk."  
"A security risk?" Casey asked, feeling like a parrot.

"I'd made contact with you. He was worried that would compromise me."

"I'm sorry."

Derek raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't be. If I'd have gone in you'd have been planning another funeral."

Casey's eyes widened. Derek took a deep breath and began the extraction process.

"Casey. What I do is dangerous. It's not directing traffic or investigating home invasions. It's right at the front line of police work. There are no cut-off points with my work. I'm in until the job gets done. We don't have fancy uniforms or horses. We don't even get recognition. As far as the world is concerned my department was shut down with the rest of the Security Service during the scandals of the eighties. They train us hard though." He sniggered. "I thought the Queens' coach was an ass-hole. It was nothing compared to my SS trainer."

"Is that supposed to reassure me, because it doesn't."

"No. It shouldn't reassure you. And Case, I'm sorry, but you have to understand, what I'm telling you is something you can't tell anyone, not even Marti."

"Marti? Are you going to tell her yourself?"

"Now why would I do that?"

"Because she's your sister. She has a right to know!"

"Casey. The more she knows, the more she is at risk from. Princess…" She glared at him and he held up his hands. "Sorry…force of habit. Casey, when I leave here tonight, you won't see me again and neither will Marti. You asked me about why I didn't leave you a message…it was because I couldn't work how to do it. Well now, I have. I've seen you, I've explained. Now the family know and _you_ can move on. I'll leave it up to you as to what you say to Marti, but you _cannot_ tell her everything that I've told you. It isn't safe."

"You're leaving again?" A ball of panic settled in Casey's chest.

"I have to, honey. I do this to keep you safe and I'll continue to do that until I don't have a breath in my body."

"_That _can be arranged." Casey said through gritted teeth.

Derek climbed off the bed, chuckling.

"Casey." He smiled. "Please sweetheart, "hard-nosed" doesn't suit you. Go home. Throw cushions, scream and shout. Just make sure that you don't tell anyone the truth." He picked up his Glock and ID from the dresser and made his way towards the door.

Casey followed him. "You can't do this, Derek. It's not fair on our family or the people who love you." _On me._

"Sweetheart…"

"Don't patronise me, Derek."

He looked taken aback. "I wasn't."

"You called me "sweetheart". You called me "honey". Jesus! Derek, just call me "Klutzilla" or "Spacey" or one of the hundred other spurious, derogatory nicknames you have for me."

"Why?"

"Because those names I can deal with."

They stopped close to the door. Derek stood with his back to Casey, looking at the "In case of fire" instructions which showed the emergency exit. He almost laughed at the irony.

"No emails. No Facebook?" The timid voice behind him asked.

"No." he said turning to face her. Suddenly she looked tiny.

"Maybe when you retire?" Casey suggested, hopefully.

"If I make it that long do you seriously think you'll remember me?"

Casey adjusted her stance and folded her arms across her chest. "Oh I'll remember you. If nothing else it will give me many years to come up with an arsenal of anti-Derek pranks. You're seven years behind as it is."

For nearly fourteen years Derek had been trying to work out why Casey McDonald had got under his skin so badly. Seeing her standing there, arms crossed determinedly, looking every shade of beautiful as she told him in such an oblique way that she would never forget him…_then_ he realised why she mattered to him.

He opened the door to her hotel room and stepped outside and she followed him to the door.

Derek Venturi stood looking at Casey McDonald for possibly the last time in this life.

"Pranking works both ways, so right back at ya…my love." He said with his characteristic smirk.

Before she could speak he leant forward, kissed her soundly on the mouth and then walked down the hall and out of her life…

Probably.


	19. Not Again

The door banged against the wall of Spike's office with a loud crashing noise making Spike look up. Derek was standing in front of him looking anything but pleased.

"It's done." He said. "I told her." He turned to leave the room.

"Wait!" Spike called. Derek stopped but he didn't turn around.

"Are you okay?" Spike asked the back of Derek's head.

Derek shrugged. "I'll fucking _live_." He said and left the room, banging the door again on his way out.

"What's up with you?" Jazz asked as Derek returned to his desk.

"None of your fucking business." Derek shot back, grabbed his jacket from where he had just slung it on the chair and headed out of the main door.

He went to a bar which was a rarity for him, but he didn't trust himself at home. The temptation of his laptop would be too great. He was still reeling from the self-revelation he had had when he left Casey.

Derek had always known that he found Casey attractive, and he had realised over time that the animosity between them was a cover for a deeper affection. He had missed all of his family over the past seven years, but the hole that Casey had left in his life was disproportionate with her role as step-sister. When he wasn't living life on the edge, struggling to survive, she was all that he thought of. For a long time he had wondered why, and had come up with some credible answers: she was his age, they shared friends, she was his equal in many ways, she challenged him – all of which added up to her occupying a place in his life which none of the rest of his family could. He had even, on cold lonely nights, realised that there was an element of sexual attraction there.

And when he had resumed contact with her, he used all of those reasons and a few more to justify his interest in making contact with _her_ rather than Marti or Edwin. As he had been on his way to her hotel he had put the excitement down to finally seeing a family member face to face for the first time in seven years.

Then he had seen her and she had kissed him. And his eyes had started to open in more ways than one.

Of course she had gone on to sock him one and back him into a corner…

He smiled into his glass of Jack Daniels.

"Feisty" was not the word.

Derek's phone buzzed and he took it from his pocket. It was an email from Casey.

"This is me getting the last word in before you delete the account.

I'm not going anywhere, Derek. Not for some faceless bureaucrats, not for some crazied meglomanic…and _definitely_ not because _you_ told me to. I've never done what you've asked, so what makes you think I'd start now?

Get used to it. I'll always be here blighting your existence until neither of us does…exist, I mean."

There was another buzz and another email.

"P.S. Be careful, love. X."

* * *

Jazz was absent the following day which suited Derek just fine because he was hung-over, grouchy and the last thing he needed was to have his ass of a partner making wisecracks the whole time.

At some point the previous day, Spike had requested the flight manifests for all Ontario airports looking for the arrival of some known drug dealer. This morning, the resulting printouts had arrived on Derek's desk for him to sort through; a boring, laborious task.

Derek wasn't entirely convinced that the arrival of the manifests and the non-arrival of his partner weren't connected.

He spent the morning checking passengers out and looking for the proverbial needle – while his mind pondered Casey's two emails. They were typical Casey: threatening and aggressive, followed by supportive and…loving?

The afternoon was almost over when Derek took the results of his labours through to his boss and dumped them on his desk.

"Nada." He stated without preamble.

"Nada, _Sir_." Spike pointed out. The hierarchy of the "Mounties" was still laid out in a military style with the ranks made up of commissioned and non-commissioned officers in a similar way to that of the colonial British army. Of course, the usual "Mountie" rules didn't apply here in this department but Spike as an ex-army man liked to think that they did.

Derek smirked. "S'ok. You don't need to call me Sir. "Mikey" will do."

Spike glanced up at the ceiling in despair.

"I'm going to let that go for obvious reasons. You're acting like a clown…D-Mikey."

"I know but underneath the grease paint my heart is breaking." Derek retorted jovially.

"Talking of theatrics, where's the other half of the double act?" Spike asked, jerking his head towards the outer office.

"Jazz? I don't know. He didn't show today. I thought he'd phoned in."

Spike frowned. "No. He didn't. Did you try phoning him?"

Derek shook his head, but didn't elaborate why not. The last time Jazz hadn't turned up at work it was because he was at home in bed with Kayla from Reprographics. He hadn't answered the phone when Derek called so much as he had hit the loudspeaker button, thereby subjecting Derek to aural porn of the kind he definitely wouldn't pay money to hear.

"Phone him." Spike ordered. "Tell him to put down which ever bit he's currently with and get his ass in here."

"Yessir!" Derek mock-saluted and as he left the office, both men wondered at the new cheeriness – and both had similar suspicions as to its origin.

* * *

"Hey Jazz! It's Mikey! Where the fuck are you? Giz us a call when you get this, ass-hole! Bye."

Derek hung up. He'd been working for twelve hours straight and was ready for turning in. He wondered whether or not he should drive by Jazz's apartment and check on his reluctant man-at-arms. He glanced out of the window at the night sky. It was threatening snow again, so he decided to call it a night instead.

There was at least one benefit of working unsociable hours – the traffic was lighter on the commute. Derek pulled out of the company car park and joined the traffic flow with ease. As he drove he wondered what Casey was doing. She had been planning to stay in the city for a while and he wondered if his visit had changed that. Maybe she was already back in London regaling Marti with tales of the evil sibling.

Much as that thought both concerned and amused him, Derek thought it was unlikely. If he knew Casey at all she would probably hang around in Ottawa until she either ran out of money or sightseeing trips. _Knowing_ Casey and her keener preparations that could mean she was here for the foreseeable future.

Like her email from the previous night - it kind of reassured him in a way that it really shouldn't.

Just as he was nearing his own apartment, a beep punctuated the silence in his car and he glanced at the display in the centre of the console.

**Jazz Calling.**

Derek answered the call by pressing a single button and Jazz's voice filled the car through the speakers. Although he was clearly trying not to be overheard.

"Mikey!" He whispered. "Hey Dude! Glad I got you."

"Where the hell have you been? Do you realised how much paperwork shit I had to sort through on _my own_ today?"  
"Aw! Poor sweetie! Issum feeling neglected?"  
"Laugh all you like, wise-guy, Spike noticed your non-appearance."

"Good. He can pay me double for the gut I busted today. Whoops no pun intended!"

Derek grimaced. "Jazz…you are one sick fucker, you know that?"

"Sure, sure. Look Mikey I need you to come get me. I'm stranded."

"Did her husband come home and catch you?" Derek asked wryly.

"Nah! Nothing like that. I've been working today. I'm in an alley at the back of that new nightclub-cum-warehouse they are all raving about."

Derek glanced at the clock. "Bit early in the evening for clubbing, isn't it?"

"Will you just stop with the stupid comments and listen? I remembered where I had seen the girl from the café before and it led me down here. I got a cab down but the reject of a driver ditched me while I was poking around. You know the club?"  
"Yeah, but…"

"Just get down here then and pronto. The girl is the key, Mikey. And this case…it's going to blow the whole damn department to pieces."

"Why?"  
"Shit! I got to go Mikey, someone's coming. I'll…"

Jazz broke off suddenly. Derek heard shouting in the background followed by a sound that made his heart stop.

A gunshot.

Swearing colourfully, Derek reached into the glove box and pulled out the magnetic blue light that he almost never used. In an instant he had attached it to the roof of his car and switched it on. Then he swerved out of the current line of traffic onto the opposite side of the road and put his foot down.

* * *

He reached the warehouse quickly and pulled up at the back alley with a loud screech of tyres and his siren still blaring. He killed the latter and peered through the screen into the night. The alley was dark but Derek could see a large lump on the ground a few short feet in.

Jazz.

Derek drew his gun, released the safety and exited his car. He slammed the door shut, flipped the lock and edged closer to Jazz's body. His eyes flicked about and his ears listening for every sound.

The club was still in darkness because it didn't open until ten which was still three hours away. Inside, Derek was sure there were people setting up, but outside the only noise was the soft shuffle of his Converse-clad feet on the rough asphalt.

It wasn't like the movies. There wasn't a lot of debris lining the alley, just a couple of large garbage skips. The alley looked well-maintained and there wasn't even a space for a rodent to hide. The only thing that made the long thin space untidy was Jazz's crumpled form.

Derek moved across to his partner with trepidation. He had been in this situation before and his stomach started to rebel at the similarities.

He reached Jazz quickly, but with his precautions, it felt like forever. There was blood on the floor, though Derek was relieved to see that Jazz hadn't suffered the same fate as Grubby. Jazz's mid-riff was intact and when he looked at his friend's chest it was rising and falling slightly – Not at all normally, but it was a reassuring movement all the same. Jazz's face was covered in sweat but he wasn't conscious.

Derek looked him over trying to locate the source of the blood and quickly found it.

Jazz had been shot in the leg.

Derek hissed as he realised the source of the bleeding and the potential danger. He removed his own belt and passed it around the top of Jazz's thigh to slow the blood loss. Jazz's eyes opened slightly at the pressure and he gave a shadow of a grin.

"Mikey." He whispered. "Pocket." Before losing consciousness again.

As soon as Derek had finished securing the belt he rummaged through his partner's pockets and was rewarded with a piece of paper. He pocketed it without looking and holstering his weapon, pulled his phone from his own pocket to call for an ambulance.

Job done, he turned back to Jazz.

"Mikey. Leak." Jazz whispered.

"Jesus Jazz. Can't you wait? You're kind of busy right now."

"No Mikey. Leak. Department 15."

Derek stared at his partner in shock.

"The girl, Mikey. Look for the girl." And Jazz once again passed out.

In the distance, Derek heard the braying of the ambulance with relief. He made to stand up.

And something hard and substantial hit him in the side.

* * *

Casey woke the morning after Derek's departure happier than she had been for a very long time. She lay in her very elaborate, comfortable bed staring at the ceiling and doing an excited leg jiggle a la Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman. She giggled and laughed and finally stretched her arms dramatically.

Today was a much better day than yesterday. Today was a much better day than any she had had in her life. Sure Derek had walked "out of her life" but at least he was alive to do so. And time had taught her that no matter how often they tried to distance themselves from each other, they always drifted home again.

She was also feeling positive because he had not specifically commented on her emailed remark all those weeks ago about feeling more for Mikey than she should OR the fact that her first reaction on seeing him again after seven years was to kiss him.

More importantly, not only had he not commented on either event, his parting shot when he left her had been to kiss _her_ on the lips! She grinned, she giggled…and then a very real panic set in.

She stilled her feet and sat bolt upright.

This was _wrong,_ so wrong. She shouldn't be excited about this, she should be concerned…frightened even. He was her step-brother – and a step-brother on the run from some very serious people. They had absolutely no future together. Even if he survived the megalomaniac they would still have to deal with their parents – their family!

Casey flopped back into bed, deflated, dejected.

And then the phone rang.

"Hi. It's me! How are you?" Marti asked cheerfully.

Casey put her current worries to one side. "I'm not talking to you." She said pointedly.

"Oh?" Marti sounded amused. "Does that include your last sentence?" It reminded Casey of conversations they had had in reverse when Marti was a little girl.  
"Shut up. A little bit of a warning would have been nice." Casey noted.

Marti was confused.

"Warning about what"  
"You know what…you know _who_. And for your information, you were wrong. The world _does _revolve around him. I should have known. The bastard hasn't changed one iota!"

Marti's eyes widened and she had to sit down on the sofa in Casey's apartment. "You've seen him…already? How was he?"  
"His usual obnoxious self, only packing "heat" but not a horse."  
"What?"

"You know… "heat", a gun. They say it in all the movies." Casey said dismissively, picking at the pillow case beside her.

"And the horse?"

"He's a mountie, Marti. Albeit an un-mounted one." She sniggered.

Marti giggled too. "Really?"

"Really."

Her little sister giggled again and then sobered. "How is he?" She asked, her voice sounding desperate, almost pitiful and Casey remembered the circumstances of their little tragedy.

"He looks good, Smarti. But let's face it, he'd have to look dreadful to be worse than the way we've been picturing him for the last seven years."

"Did he explain…why?"  
"Yes. And I can't talk over the phone, but he says it wasn't his fault and I believe him. Much as it goes against the grain and all that."

"He talked you round?"

"He explained a lot. In a very "it could only happen to Derek way" it was totally credible."

"When's he coming home?" Marti asked. Casey's mood deteriorated further.

"He says he isn't. That even I won't see him again…but Smarts, don't rule anything out yet, okay? I'm staying here as planned. You know what he's like. He'll probably pop in and prank me or something."  
"Tell me…about seeing him." Marti pleaded.

Casey sighed. "I'll tell you what I can, but it isn't much."

She launched into the tale of how the evening had proceeded; full of descriptions of how Derek had looked and limiting herself to a single sentence for his reasons for pretending he was dead. "Someone made the decision for him, and he went with it to keep us safe."

Marti gasped. "Safe?"  
"Don't ask."

"He came to your hotel room?" Marti asked.

"Yes. I opened the door and he was there, lounging against the door post. I was so shocked!" She grinned. "But not as shocked as he was when I almost flattened him."  
"Flattened him?"

"I launched myself at him." Casey smiled at the memory. "I think that was bad enough but the kiss…" Her voice trailed away.  
"What? He kissed you?" Marti was astonished.

"Yes, but not until he said goodbye. No, I meant my kiss." Casey was still reminiscing, and completely unaware of the effect her words were having on her sister.

"Sorry…did you say you kissed him and then he kissed you?" Marti asked for clarification. Casey woke up.

"Erm…yes. Sort of. I mean it was nothing. Just a brother-sister "I've missed you" type of kiss."  
"Where?"

"What?"

"Where?"

"In the doorway of my hotel room…both times."

"Not that sort of where. Where on your body?"  
"Erm…the lips?" Casey said, her uncertainty of Marti's reaction making a question of Casey's own answer.

"Oh. I see." Marti said, glad that she was so far away and Casey couldn't see her amused expression. "Just brother and sister."

Later, Casey strolled the National Gallery leisurely, contemplating not only the paintings and exhibits but also the past twenty four hours. She had decided to remain in Ottawa for the time being, despite Derek's disappearance. Much as she hated to admit it, she was overdue for a vacation and she hadn't been to Ottawa since she was in Junior High; a truly disastrous trip where her teacher (a politics graduate who had recently separated from her artist husband) determined the itinerary. Casey had learnt more than any person would ever need to know about the workings of Canadian government whilst seeing absolutely nothing of the other rich experiences Ottawa had to offer. As a very deliberate "bird-flip" to her former teacher, she had picked an art trip as her first outing.

For the first time in years, she did something totally because she wanted to, and it felt good; even though as she perused the works of art before her she could almost hear Derek in her ear. _What exactly is that supposed to be? Woman crying? Yeah well if I had to look at that in the mirror everyday I'd be sobbing too._

Casey smiled to herself and moved on into the next gallery.

For lunch, she had traditional French onion soup and a crusty baguette in a small bistro she found. She sipped her spoon delicately with her nose stuck in a new book. It was the first book she had read properly for a long time, and it gripped her attention as though she had been starved of literary stimuli. When her bowl was empty and she reached the end of a chapter, she gathered her things and moved on, this time choosing to just walk for a mile or so on newly cleared paths, enjoying the sights and sounds around her.

It was a different Casey today than yesterday. It was a different Casey than the one who had lived the past seven years. This Casey was living again.

And though she would never admit it, this Casey was _loving_ again.

Eventually, she ran out of energy and made her way back to the hotel. As there was a couple of hours until she had planned to go down to the restaurant for her evening meal. Casey took the opportunity to go to sleep.

Evening came and, at about eight o'clock, Casey made her way to one of the statement restaurants which the hotel boasted. She was shown to her table near a window which she had specifically requested knowing that she would be dining alone and this time reading while she ate was not an option.

Truly ravenous for the first time in a very long time, she ordered a mushroom stroganoff and tonight opted for water as an accompaniment rather than alcohol, much to the waiter's obvious chagrin. The food when it arrived was good, and she surprised herself by eating it all and then asking for the dessert menu. Casey chose a chocolate and mint mousse and requested a milky coffee to be served at the same time.

She spent the few moments waiting for dessert looking out at the night scene.

Casey looked first at her reflection in the glass, and she was rather pleased with her appearance tonight. She was wearing a sleeveless knitted top in a rich teal colour and had teamed it with black pants that were formal in appearance. The look was sophisticated yet casual and she had let her hair hang in waves on her shoulders. She looked slightly older than her years in the outfit, but as she was still in her twenties this was older in a good way. Casey smiled at herself and made a mental note to file this outfit away under "interview clothes". As a doctor who still had to break the thirty mark sometimes a little sophistication added gravitas to her image.

Then she frowned wondering why she was contemplating interviews and changes of employment.

Dessert came and went speedily, and whilst she finished her coffee, Casey watched the snow as it started to fall outside.

She wasn't sure how she managed to miss the disturbance at the entrance to the restaurant, the noise barely registering in her thoughts. But when the slight irritating background noise drew closer and became shouts, she was torn from her contemplation of the winter scene outside and forced to turn towards the source of the sound. In the distance she saw her waiter and several other staff members running towards her, and she would have been puzzled – had her more immediate attention not been drawn to the figure looming over her.

The figure gasped in pain whilst clutching at its side, reeled and then collapsed onto the table in front of her. The force smashed the empty wine and water glasses and made Casey dart to her feet in shock as the table collapsed beneath the weight.

And then all was silent.

Casey stood, coffee cup still in her hand and looked down on the very still, very grey figure that she now realised she recognised.

The unconscious figure of Derek.


	20. What's Up Doc?

Everything was warm and fuzzy with a little edge to it; an edge that might almost be _pain_. His mattress had never been this comfortable, his pillow never this soft, and he was fairly sure his bed had never smelled like Casey. He wanted to keep his eyes closed and enjoy the sensations but unfortunately the "edge" was becoming intrusive in a burning kind of manner as the fog cleared from his mind. His thoughts whirled as they tried to make sense of his current situation.

He remembered talking to Jazz on the phone, he remembered tearing through the streets with his emergency light on the roof of the car, and he remembered finding Jazz injured in the alley – and calling for assistance. Derek frowned as then he recalled being kicked to the ground, his assailant taking advantage of his disabled state to rifle through his pockets.

Afterwards Derek had discovered that his attacker wasn't after anything of monetary value. Instead, he had found his phone still in his jeans with his car keys. The only things the attacker had taken were the piece of paper given to Derek by Jazz…and Derek's gun.

Derek had tried to get up and pursue the thief but his side hurt so badly it was all he could do to limp to his car. He could hear the ambulance approaching, and whilst he wanted to stay with his friend and he probably needed medical assistance himself, he knew that he needed to get out of there fast.

Because Jazz had told him there was a leak in the department, something which he and Spike had feared for years. Now that Jazz had confirmed their suspicions, Derek had to implement a plan he and Spike had put in place many years ago. He needed to go rogue to find the culprit.

The trouble was, Derek realised as he tried to drive himself to his apartment, the well-placed kick to his side had done some real damage. The further Derek drove the harder and more painful it became to breathe.

Finally he gave up trying to ignore the pain and, after circling a few blocks to make sure he wasn't being followed, Derek made for Casey's hotel praying that she was still there...

...Which was how he got here…wherever here was. The pain was increasing with every breath now, dwarfing the soft comfort of the bed, but strangely it was not diminishing the scent of Casey in the air. If anything her scent was getting stronger.

He jerked his eyes awake and found her leaning over him, her hand reaching out to feel his forehead. His sudden waking made her jump and she moved back quickly like a little girl caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

"Oh!" She gasped. "You're awake!"

Derek tried to make some wiseass comment but a wave of pain ran through his ribs on one side. It also hurt across his chest which confused him because he hadn't remembered being injured there.

"Hold still." She said putting on her best doctor's voice and placing a hand on his shoulder. "You've got badly bruised ribs and multiple lacerations to your chest. You were lucky not to break anything. I wouldn't recommend you try to move too quickly and talking might be difficult. You need to take it easy for a few hours and then tomorrow when you are used to the pain we'll get you up on your feet." She straightened the covers whilst avoiding his eyes. "These sorts of injuries need gentle movement not bed rest otherwise you run the risk of pneumonia. Right now I need you to slowly take a deep breath in and then push as much of it out as possible." She watched as he did so. It was painful process for both parties. "Whoever kicked you in the side must have been wearing hobnail boots."

"You can tell?" He managed to whisper.

Casey nodded. "There's an imprint on your skin so there was no real guesswork involved. Can you do the breathing exercise for me again please? I need you to do it four times an hour while you're awake so that we clear your lungs properly. The temptation is going to be to breathe shallowly because it hurts less. We don't want that."

Derek did as he was told.

"And my chest?" Derek asked when he had finished, wanting to know the source of the pain on his front.

Casey pulled a face. "That was your own fault. You collapsed on my dinner table which was covered in glassware. I had to play "Operation" on you and fish large chunks of glass out of your skin." She blushed. "It could have been worse if you hadn't spent so much time in the gym. Your…erm…muscles didn't allow the glass to penetrate too deeply."

Derek raised an eyebrow at her stuttering over his "six-pack" which made her blush deepen. He chuckled and then wished he hadn't. It hurt…a lot.

"I'll get you some more painkillers." Casey mumbled moving quickly away. "It's been a while since your last shot." Her confidence seemed to increase the further she was away from him.

"What's the time?" Derek hissed through teeth gritted from the pain.

"It's about half two in the morning." Casey answered, coming back from her medical bag with a syringe and a little bottle of liquid.

"No needles." Derek protested.

"Don't be silly." Casey admonished. "It's the best way. Just a little prick in your behind."

"Rephrase that." Derek barked in annoyance because her sentence had been amusing and he _really_ couldn't laugh. Casey grinned as she realised what she'd accidentally said, how amusing it was, and the fact that laughing was painful for him right now. She lowered her hands and therefore the syringe.

"Can you manage to swallow?" She asked, in complete innocence.  
"Casey…" Derek groaned as amusement threatened again.

She giggled. "I meant if I give you the medication in tablet form."

"I'll try." He promised, liking the familiar sound of her laughter. It reminded him of more innocent times.

They managed to get him to swallow the tablets with some degree of fuss and then Casey was once again standing beside him.

"Where are we?" Derek asked gazing up at her. She looked beautiful (again), even though she had ditched the sophisticated look from earlier and was now dressed in pyjama trousers and a matching top. In fact, he liked this look more. It was the kind of sleepwear she used to wear when they shared a home. He revisited a memory of bumping into her on the landing of his childhood home early in the morning and smiled to himself.

"My hotel room. I told the management you collapsed because you were diabetic and needed insulin. I said there was no need to call for an ambulance because I was your…" she paused, glancing at him suddenly. "…your doctor. They rather helpfully provided me with a wheelchair and assistance to get you up here. I think they were just glad not to have an ambulance parked out front."

"Why didn't you send me to hospital?" Derek asked.

"Because from what you told me the other night, you prefer your actions to be under the radar and I assumed that my medical expertise was the reason you came back to see me…after you said such a definite goodbye."

She didn't meet his eyes as she spoke but he could hear the hurt in her voice. Derek caught her hand.

"You were right. Thank you." He rubbed the back of her hand with his thumb. "And I'm sorry."

Casey shook her hand loose and busied herself.

"You need to get some rest. The pain relief will make you drowsy and tomorrow I have to decrease the dose slightly so that you can feel the pain when you do too much. If I over medicate you you'll behave as though there is nothing wrong with you – which would be disastrous. I suggest you take sleep now…while you can. You might find it easier to sleep on your damaged side rather than on your back."

She walked back over to the armchair where she had been curled up under a spare comforter.

"Where are you sleeping?" he asked across the room, unable to see her when she left the immediate vicinity of the bed.

"In the chair. You need to be comfortable." She corrected herself. "As comfortable as possible."

"You can sleep in the bed. I'm not capable of biting right now." He wondered who was more shocked at his suggestion, Casey or him?  
Casey took a deep breath.

"I can't Derek. Even if I wanted to there's a danger I could knock into you in my sleep." She turned off the main room light from the switch near her head. "Get some rest. We'll talk in the morning."

* * *

If he had been expecting the pain to lessen the following day he was disappointed. If anything it had increased and he put it down to the bruising coming out, painkillers wearing off, and the stiffness in his muscles that came from lying still for nearly twelve hours.

It wasn't the pain that woke him however. He woke with the knock at the door that heralded the arrival of Room Service with breakfast – and the hotel duty manager. Derek lay still because he had no choice, but he kept his eyes closed so that he could listen to the conversation between Casey and the guy in the hotel livery.

"Good Morning, Miss McDonald. I'm Colin O'Leary. Duty Manager. My colleagues informed me of last night's events and I thought I'd pop along and enquire as to your fiancé's health."

Derek stifled a snort. _My Doctor eh?_

"He's improving. I gave him the insulin straight away and he responded. Unfortunately he suffered some cuts and bruising in the fall. It will be sometime before he is up and about fully." Derek heard his "fiancée" reply.

"Oh dear. Are you sure it is wise to keep him out of hospital?"

"He's fine. I'm a trauma specialist in London and there is nothing here that needs more attention than I can give. If he had come into my ER as a patient, I would have given him meds and instructions and sent him home to rest. There's not much else you can do for these sorts of injuries. Besides, my fiancé is a very private man who would be devastated if I tried to admit him to hospital."

The hotel manager murmured his assent. _Probably grateful that we aren't suing the hotel._ Derek thought with amusement.

"Is there anything I, on behalf of the hotel, can get for you?" Mr O'Leary asked as his underling finished setting the small dining table for two and left the room.

"Just peace and quiet for a couple of days, and I would be grateful if you could forget that I have an extra guest. I am worried about my partner's workplace trying to contact him if they know he is here. He has a tendency towards overwork and if they succeed in speaking to him I fully expect he would get out of bed and try to go into the office."  
Mr O'Leary chuckled. "A man after my own heart." He commented. "Can I just say it is a relief to have a professional on hand to deal with the situation so swiftly and discreetly." _Slimy bastard._ Thought Derek. _He'll probably say something about the colour of her eyes next._

The manager had been on the sexual harassment training courses however, and held his tongue although if Derek had his eyes open he would have seen the look the guy gave Casey.

"But don't worry," the SB continued. "I will instruct the front desk that neither you nor your partner "exist" should we get any queries."

"Thank you." said Casey, pointedly walking back to the door and holding it open. "That would be most helpful."

He nodded, left and Casey closed the door behind him.

"It's getting to be a bit of a habit with you, isn't it?" Derek said from the bed. Casey jumped visibly and crossed quickly to him.

"What is?"  
"You pretending to be my fiancée. You trying to tell me something?" Their eyes met and held for a moment.

"I'm trying to save your butt, moron. Or perhaps you'd like me to decide that you've taken a turn for the worst and need to be admitted to hospital ASAP?" She smiled at the expression on his face. "Nah! I didn't think so."

Derek tried to sit up and she held him back. "Let me look at your war wounds first." She said. He snorted.

"You just want the chance to feel up my six pack." He smirked.

"You don't have a six pack, Scrappy."

"Ya know. That's not what you said last night."

"I said your muscle tone prevented the glass penetrating further."  
"You said it was a good job I worked out so much because I had good muscle tone." He grinned at her.

Casey glared at him and ripped back the bedclothes a little too hard, forgetting that he was only wearing boxer shorts underneath…very thin boxer shorts. Derek winced with the pain, Casey gasped at the sight and they both looked at each other in horror.

"Where are my clothes?" Derek asked quickly.

Casey tried to appear nonchalant. "Over there on the side. I needed to check you over for injuries and besides, you couldn't go to bed in jeans."  
"_You_ took my pants off?" Derek stared at her in disbelief.

"Technically I took _all_ your clothes off. Like I said I had to check you over for injuries. There was quite a bit of blood and I needed to make sure I knew all the sources."

"_All _all? I mean, I'm still wearing my boxer shorts."

Casey blushed, but her words were calm and confident.

"All your clothes, Derek. I put your underwear back on. Relax. I'm a doctor. I've seen it all before. Believe me I've seen a lot of penises. You can rest assured, yours was quite…normal." She commented, knowing that he wouldn't like that word. She placed a hand on the part of his chest which was undamaged and bent to examine the bruised portion.

At her touch, Derek became painfully aware of just how thin his boxer shorts were.

"What do you mean? "Normal"? And what do you mean? "A lot"?" He asked.

"I mean, I've seen a lot of men naked." She grinned and winked at him. "You should get up." Casey said.

Derek choked painfully and then realised she was talking about him leaving the bed.

Seven years ago, Casey was still something of an innocent. And whilst obviously she still looked the same and sounded the same, there were some differences and he wondered why he was surprised she had grown up. It shouldn't be a surprise to him. He had hints of her new found _experience_ when she had bantered with "Mikey". And because of those emails, he knew she wasn't a virgin, but what he didn't know was just how much experience she had. He gulped at the idea of Casey as a man-whore.

"What do you mean "A lot"?" He pushed.

"I mean seeing naked men is part of my job, Derek." Cue: sigh of relief. "The other day I had a guy with a broken penis in the ER. It's just something I do."

"A broken what?"

She smiled. "Google it, hun. I ain't tellin'."

Having examined Derek, Casey decided he should just sit up in bed for a while before trying to get up. She helped him sit with ease, using her training on patient-handling to shook her arm under his shoulder and lever him up with the minimum amount of jostling. She packed pillows behind him and drew the covers back over his chest.

"Hungry? She asked when he was settled. Derek gave her a "_please!" _look and she laughed and started to load a breakfast tray for him. After she had placed it on his lap, he beckoned her closer.

"Sit with me."

She responded by moving her own breakfast table close to his bed.

For a few moments, they ate in silence.

"I'm sorry you got dragged into this." Derek started to say more but Casey held up her hand.

"Don't Derek. I've had enough of your explanations over the last two days to last me the rest of my life. I get it, okay? I'll help you out, but you have to agree to not say another word about how much you don't want me to be here. It's hard enough that we had seven years of thinking you were dead. I really don't need you saying any contact between us is a mistake at every given opportunity."

"That's not what I…"

"Yes. It is." Casey interrupted him, and part of him knew she was right.

When breakfast was over and the trays returned to the corridor for collection, Casey announced she was off to town.

"You need some clothes and I need some more dressings." She explained. "Anything else you want me to pick up?"  
"Yeah. A paper. And some beer. They charge the earth for the stuff here."  
"Alcohol isn't a good idea while you're on those pain meds, D."

"I thought you said you were weaning me off them."

"I am."

"Great. Get me some beer."

Casey rolled her eyes and grabbing her purse, she left.

Derek watched TV while she was gone. For a while he considered phoning the hospital to enquire after Jazz, but he didn't want to make contact with anyone connected with work. He figured that at some point Spike would contact him, and guessed that while his boss hadn't it was because the shit had hit the fan. He was concerned by the loss of his weapon on two counts. He was worried that it could be used to frame him…but he was also worried because he didn't have any method of protecting himself, or more importantly Casey, should anyone find their whereabouts. Derek had two priorities:

He needed to go to his apartment to get a new weapon- and soon.

And he needed to find out how Jazz was doing.

* * *

"Tell me…" Derek said as Casey came through the hotel room door ladened with shopping bags. "…would you say that it's okay to sleep with your brother's girlfriend _if_ you know that he's already been unfaithful to her with her mother?"

Casey looked confused and then amused when he pointed towards the chat show currently airing on the television.

"Personally," she said. "I've never found any of Edwin's girlfriends attractive and the closest he's ever come to a MILF was Mrs Davies next door when he told her he liked the look of her stock portfolio."

Derek bit the side of his cheek to stop himself laughing. "Yup. I can totally see that as an Edwin pick-up line."

Casey dumped the bags and kicked off her shoes making for the kettle which had been thoughtfully provided to assist in the making of tea.

"You think you jest. His latest girlfriend he met at a conference on ethical investments and Green Growth markets. Sitting down to dinner with the two of them is like listening to the coupling between Greenpeace and the IMF. Even Lizzie likes her and believe me…that doesn't happen very often."

Derek watched Casey make a cup of tea for herself and a coffee for him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked after a moment.

"Sore, stiff and frustrated as hell."

Casey stirred the mugs.

"Frustrated that you had to come back to me?" She asked turning to look at him.

"Don't Case. It's not like that, and you know it."

"Do I?" She turned back to the drinks.

"Sweetheart…"

"Why call me that? Fifteen year old Derek would have cut his arm off before he used a term of endearment to anyone let alone me. Oh wait…there was "sugar muffin" for Kendra."

"Ugh! Don't remind me." Derek groaned.

Casey grinned. "What did you call Sally in private? Your "Maple waffle"? She passed him the coffee. He narrowed his eyes at her but took it and sipped despite the fact it was scalding hot.

"That's bad for you, you know. There's research been done that says routinely drinking scalding hot drinks increases your risk of cancer of the oesophagus."

"Oh god! Now not only is she a keener but she's a keener with a medical degree!" Derek complained. "You're going to enjoy telling me that everything I love doing is bad for me aren't you?"  
"Probably…if you drink, smoke and sleep around."

"There goes your opinion of me again. I don't smoke and I don't sleep around. And before you start in on the drinking…"  
"…I won't." Casey interrupted. "Believe me, I won't."

Derek frowned at her reaction.

"Don't ask." She murmured.

Derek switched off the television with the remote.

"So how long am I confined to barracks?"

Casey regarded her tea carefully. "A couple of days. But you should take it easy for a lot longer or you'll do more damage. I'm fairly sure there's nothing broken but without an x-ray I can't be 100% certain. I need to watch you for signs of internal bleeding or pneumonia, but to be honest you already seem too well. I guess you are stuck with me for a while."

"Casey, don't take this the wrong way, but I can't stay here that long. The bastard stole my gun so I'm unprotected and I really need to find out how Jazz is."

"Fine. Give me your keys and your address and I'll go pick your gun up. And I can find out how Jazz is, if you give me his proper name."

Derek sat up suddenly. "No way! You can't go anywhere near my apartment. They'll be looking for me. It's too dangerous."

"I can look after myself Derek."  
"Casey…these people killed Grubby. They hurt Jazz and they hurt me. If you think I'm going to let _you_ anywhere near them…"

His face was screwed up with the pain of shouting. Sweat trickled from his forehead.

Casey jumped up concerned and made him sit back down.

"Calm down!" She soothed. "Fine. I won't go to your apartment, but I can help with the Jazz situation."

"Oh?"

"Let me make a phone call."

"You can't phone from here. They'll be tracking all calls enquiring after him."

Casey smiled. "That's okay. It wasn't his hospital I was going to phone."


	21. Making Progress

"Dr McDonald?"

Casey looked up into vivid green eyes set in one of the most attractive faces she had ever seen. She blinked and stood awkwardly, her magazine dropping to the waiting room floor and her purse rapidly following it.

"Robin Hargreaves. Head of Trauma." The tall man said cheerily pushing his hand out for her to shake, but then catching her fingers and bringing them up to his lips.

"Dr Hargreaves. Thank you for agreeing to see me." Casey stuttered and bent quickly to pick up her purse. She didn't notice him check out her backside and by the time she straightened he was all _decorum_.

"Oh no! It's Robin. And thank you for agreeing to come in. Dr White was very complimentary about you when we spoke on the phone. He seems to think that we would be lucky to have your expertise on our staff." He said flatteringly.

Casey blushed. "Dr White has a habit of exaggerating."

Robin smiled slightly patronisingly. "Not by much. I've read your resume. You've made quite a name for yourself in London."

Casey shook her head. "I was just in the right place at the right time."  
"Steven said that Trauma is a kind of personal quest for you."

"I lost a brother to a GSW." Casey said simply. _Lost a brother, gained a…whatever._

Robin nodded sympathetically. "Well let me show you around."

For the next forty minutes, Casey was shown around the ER and Trauma departments of the hospital by Robin Hargreaves. He was a decent guide and seemed a nice guy, and although he was about seven years older than Casey, he was easy on the eye. In different circumstances, Casey might have found his flirtatious nature attractive. But she was here for a purpose…and a person. She was here for Derek – and that changed everything.

After a tour of the lower areas of the trauma unit, Robin took Casey further up into the hospital to show her some of the areas the trauma patients were released to when they have been stabilised and assessed. These included ICU and High-Dependency.

Robin led her through the maze of corridors with a practiced ease and into an area laid out in such a way that Casey didn't need the signs to know that it was ICU.

"We're quiet today." He said, and the nurses' station did seem quite laid back for once. "The rush from the weekend has gone and we are just handling a couple of car crash victims and a gun shot wound." He pointed to the whiteboard behind the desk listing the patients. "Jason Ransome" was the last on the list.

"Gun shot wound?" Casey queried. Robin laughed.

"Ah yes…your interest in GSWs. You'll like this one. It's a complex case. Would you like to review the patient's notes? I can't take you in to see him. He's under police protection right now."

_Yes! _Casey did a silent fist-pump in her mind.

"The notes would be just fine." She said calmly. "I'm always interested in complex cases."

"Well when we've finished here, I'll take you across to geriatrics and show you the gangrenous foot that results when a seventy two year old man cleans his hunting rifle without checking if it's loaded, and then leaves it too long before he seeks medical attention."

"Thanks!" replied Casey, inwardly grimacing. Rotten flesh was one of her reflux triggers. _Derek Venturi – you so owe me!_

To which her own mind replied, "_Owe" or "own"_?

* * *

Since Derek had woken yesterday, he had managed to get out of bed and even take a brief shower. Casey had helped him into the bathroom, and actually offered to help wash him until he had shooed her away with indignation.

"You just keep your "doctor's" hands to yourself." He insisted, causing her to giggle behind his back although she was secretly relieved. Despite her reticent comments about "naked Derek", and the fact that she was being truthful when she described his…asset…as "normal", size didn't matter to Casey and Derek naked was very distracting.

As for Derek…the idea of getting naked in front of Casey while he was conscious didn't appeal; or at least not while she was playing "doctor". Correction: not while she was playing doctor in this context.

_Shoot me now._ Derek's brain screamed. _I will not fantasise about Casey._

Too late. The shower would have to be a cold one.

Once he was clean and dressed in the new clothes she had bought him they had spent the whole afternoon chatting about friends and family the way they had done before - when Derek was Mikey and they both had secrets. Now the conversation was more open, more honest…well at least as far as talking about everyone else was concerned.

At about 5pm. Dr Steven White (Casey's friend and co-worker in London) had phoned back to "Calam" with the news that she was waiting for. She had an interview the following morning with the Head of Trauma at Jazz's hospital who had been Steven's mentor at his first post-graduation position – in Ottawa.

It had taken quite a while for Casey to reassure both Steven and Derek that she wasn't really planning on _moving_ to Ottawa; Derek's face was a picture when she told him she was going to ask for an interview! Instead, although she only explained this part to Derek and not Steven, the idea was that an interview would inevitably also include a tour of the hospital's trauma areas – and maybe the opportunity to get an update on Jazz's health, without alerting anyone to Casey's interest in the one specific patient.

Casey was grateful that neither of them asked where the idea had come from.

She might have convinced them it was a spur of the moment thing, but the reality was Casey had been curious about the Ottawa hospitals since the moment Derek reintroduced himself into her life. She wasn't lying when she said she wasn't planning to stay in Ottawa…yet. But she was gradually realising the more time she spent with Derek, the harder it was going to be to walk away.

At the moment, Derek was waiting for her to return from the interview to their hotel room, hopefully with news of his partner. Despite the pain, he paced the floor watching the door impatiently while she was gone. It wasn't only Jazz's health and welfare he was concerned about but Casey's too. She was getting caught up in his world which both worried and pleased him. Just because Derek _couldn't_ have Casey in his life didn't mean that he didn't want her there.

At 12.30pm, the hotel room door opened and Casey walked in carrying promising-looking paper food bags, and with an air of smugness about her.

"Lunch!" Casey announced, holding up the package.

"And?" he pushed.

Casey smiled, rather impressed. Derek normally put food before everything else. It was nice to see that didn't include his friends and their well-being. She placed the food bags on the side and turned to face him.

"Massive bone injury with associated soft tissue damage. When he was admitted he had a pulse-less, insensate left lower extremity with an entrance wound on the anterior lateral aspect of the thigh, just above the knee, and a larger posterior medial exit would. He was given Ringer's lactate, packed red cells, and plasma as part of the resus process and…"

Derek held up a hand. "Can we have the Cliff's notes version please?" he asked.

Casey chuckled. "You mean "Trauma for Dummies – abridged."?"

"I mean is he alive?"

She frowned. "You think I'd joke about it if he wasn't? What sort of person do you think I am?"

Derek sighed and sat down shakily on the bed. "Sorry. Tell me."  
Casey moved to sit down next to him. "It was touch and go for a while but he's alive, they've externally pinned his leg and providing the infection-prevention procedures continue to be effective the worst he should have is a limp. They say he came in with a tourniquet round his thigh…was that you?"

He nodded. "I was worried he'd bleed out. I know it's a last resort approach but there was so much blood I could tell pressure points wouldn't work."

"You saved his life Derek. How did you know about that?"

He shrugged. "A bit of training…a bit of experience." He said cryptically.

Casey bit her bottom lip all trace of her previous good humour gone.

"What?" Derek asked, seeing the sadness in her face and not liking it.

"It's nothing…just, sometimes I feel like I don't know you anymore." She whispered. Derek took her hand in his own. "Right back at ya, princess." He said equally softly and then rallied. "Although I'm still my usual charming self. All pranks, innuendo and raging appetite…did you say something about "lunch"?"

Casey groaned and batted him on the arm affectionately – for them. And then she stood up and went to wash her hands so that she could dish out the food.

They ate sitting together at the little table again and Derek asked Casey more about her morning.

"So. How was the hospital?" He asked (almost) between mouthfuls.

"Impressive. They have equipment there we only dream of, and my _current_ department isn't small. The staff seem nice, and Robin was charming."  
"Robin?"

"Head of Trauma…the guy that interviewed me."  
"Your interviewer told you to call him Robin?" Derek asked his face suddenly serious.

"Yes. He was really friendly, really approachable and totally gorgeous!" Casey enthused.

"Did he introduce you to Batman?" Derek asked and there was a definite increase in the force with which he chewed his sub roll.

Casey didn't notice and continued her breakdown of the visit – and Robin's attentions.

"I mean, clearly the man is respectful. Not many men kiss your hand rather than shake it."

"No because most _normal_ women see it as a blatant come-on and knee you in the balls if you try it." He pointed out.

"Meaning?" Casey asked archly.

"Obviously, that you aren't normal." He smirked, loving the fact that he was pissing her off in the way that only he could.

Truman who?

Casey clenched her jaw and breathed in deeply through her nose and suddenly he realised he had gone too far.

"You're an idiot, Derek! I've been nothing but helpful to you in the last two days – despite you being mean to me only hours before. Today I even inspected (at rather close range) a particularly disgusting case of gangrene - all in the cause of finding out how _your_ partner was. I thought we'd grown up and moved past all the arguments we had as teens. I thought we were adults now. Instead I find you are the same moron I always knew and loathed!"

She got up to storm off but Derek caught her by the hand.

"You can't have it both ways Casey. You complain that you don't know me anymore and then you tell me off for being the same guy I was back then. Which is it? Do you want the old me or the new me?" His eyes burned into hers.

Casey sat back down again.

"I'm sorry." She said. "I just don't think I know how to talk to you without an argument. When we talked that night at the party, I thought it was a sign that we could be different with each other. After you died I regretted the way we had been in the years before - _so_ much. When you came back into my life I hoped it was a new start. But now I find myself…"  
"Slipping into old habits." Derek finished for her.

"Yes. Old habits are hard to break."

"I'm a habit?" he smirked. Casey rolled her eyes at him.

"You're something I want to break." She grinned. Derek threw the arm from his good side around her shoulders.

"Thanks. You're rather irritating too." He said kissing the side of her head.

"Oh?" Casey chuckled.  
"Yeah. Like a rash. A constant itch that I…" He stopped and looked at her in panic.

_A constant itch that I want to scratch._

Casey's eyes were also wide as she too got the famous double entendre.

"…I mean…" Derek struggled.

She threw him a lifeline. "I get the message." She said with a dismissive wave and his heart started beating again – just a little too fast.

And she had got the message. _Clearly, judging by his panic over a slip of the tongue, Derek is horrified at the thought of something_ more_ between us._

She wasn't sure why her overall reaction to that was one of deep sadness.

Derek's heart-rate slowed as Casey "saved" him and he looked away. He couldn't believe his mouth had started to form the words other parts of him were wordlessly projecting (though fortunately it was only the _internal_ organs). It was one thing to know that he felt something for Casey. It was something else to begin to tell her that. He couldn't do that for two reasons: because it was Casey and because being close to Derek might kill her.

He risked turning his eyes to her again and saw the sadness was back. He didn't want that either so was forced to speak.

"We're friends, Casey. We aren't teenagers and it isn't a battle anymore. So what if we can't lose the snark in our conversation? At least we are still talking. If this was serious…the disagreement I mean…we _wouldn't_ be talking. I wouldn't have started emailing you as Mikey, I wouldn't have come to the hotel and we wouldn't be having this conversation." He squeezed her against him a little too roughly and winced silently through the pain.

Casey met his eyes and he saw the glitter in her own, of tears as they were shed. Carefully, he raised his spare hand and brushed the side of his thumb across her cheek bone.

"Don't." he whispered. "We're good. We will always be good. No matter how much we argue." He frowned. "Besides we both know I don't do tears."

Casey smiled weakly and her hand lifted to cover his. "I missed you so much. I missed all your stupid "male code rules", all your obnoxious quirks. I even missed all your stupid nicknames for me."

"I missed you too…" he said softly kissing her nose, and sounding sincere till he _smirked_. "…**Mac the Quack.**" He finished, and both their hands dropped with the words.

"Der-ek!" Split syllables just like before but it too was soft and she was smiling at him all the way to her eyes which were still locked onto his. "How long did it take you to come up with that one?" she asked. Their voices were still quiet.

Derek's grin widened. "About five minutes after I found out you were a doctor. I have others…you want to hear?"

"Probably not."

"Aw! Go on. Dr Death, I'm sure you'll like them."  
"Derek…"

"And of course you're an MD which makes you Casey MD MD…so good they named her twice!"

"It's _Mc_Donald, Derek, not MDonald."

"Oh of course…I forgot you're Dr Ronald McDonald of the Golden Arches Medical centre. Can I have fries with my gall-bladder removal?"  
"Cholecystectomy, Derek."

"Gesundheit! Best not get that one wrong, I always hoped there would be little Dereks one day."

"If you weren't already injured you'd need a trip to the ER right now." She warned, but she was struggling to hold in the laughter and they both knew it.

"Tell me," said Derek. "Are you still as ticklish as you used to be?"

Casey shot off the bed.

* * *

After that little incident, Casey decided an unoccupied Derek was asking for trouble. On the television cabinet was a little card advertising the hotel's "games console" service – whereby for a fee you could hire a games controller, access to a games console and a library of games. She made a call to reception and they spent the rest of the afternoon playing Mario Kart.

With the medication, and the full scale resumption of their usual banter, it was easy for Derek to forget about his side hurting, or the pressing need for him to retrieve some protection from his apartment. But later on, while Casey was brushing her teeth he thought about it more. With the consideration of the problem in detail, he also realised that it wouldn't just be his backup gun he would be retrieving from his apartment...it would be his life. The time had come to move on…and move out. He sighed. And somewhere along the line he needed to say goodbye to Casey again.

It was with that in mind that he sat in bed waiting for her to emerge from the en-suite. When she did, no doubt she would go to bed in the little armchair where she had spent the last couple of nights. This was despite his suggestion to her that they change to a twin-bedded room or ask reception for a trundle bed. Casey insisted the former would draw attention to them and the latter would just be uncomfortable. Even though he privately thought the chair was worse, Derek gave up.

The bathroom door clicked emitting a cloud of steam, the light flicked out and Casey appeared. She was dressed in a satin nightshirt tonight, her newly brushed hair falling in waves down her back and her face bare of make-up although he could see the trace of some sort of cream substance on her skin. She crossed the room to supervise his last remaining breathing exercises of the day and to check if he needed more pain meds.

"I'm good. I'd save them for the crick in the neck you're going to have tomorrow."  
"I've been fine the last two nights." She protested.

"Yeah but you look like shit now." He lied.

Derek caught her hand with his own and softened his tone. "If I promise you can practice your surgical technique if I screw up will you sleep in the bed tonight please?"

"I'm fine in the chair."

"And what if I need something in the night and you're over there?"

"You'll throw something heavy at me like you normally do." She pointed out.

"I'd rather just elbow you in the ribs."

Casey sighed. "I might hurt you if I turn funny."

"You already have turned funny, princess. It's a lost cause."

"Moron."

"Keener."

"Lamebrain."

"Princess…" he started. "…sleep with me." And then he _winked_.

Casey stepped forward and leaned over him, their faces only centimetres apart. "If I suddenly stripped my clothes off and jumped on you, you'd be out of that door faster than you could say "My grandma has a crush on you." So stop it with the innuendo."

"Innuendo? I just asked you to sleep in my bed Casey. Why do _you_ need to lower the tone?"

"With you Derek, the tone never gets above crotch height."

"Ooo. Casey! I didn't know you knew words like that!"

"I'm too tired for this."

"Fine. Now come to bed."

Casey blew out a deep breath of frustration and her face was still so close to his, her minty breath teased his nose.

"Behave, Derek." She said, and rounding the bed, she climbed in.


	22. Sleeping With The Enemy

Derek woke first the next morning and his initial thought was that the pain wasn't as bad today. His second thought, after he spotted the empty armchair across the dim light of a winter's morning was, "Shit! Where's Casey?"

And then he remembered.

He turned his head to look over his shoulder and there she was: a warm, gently snoring lump hogging all the covers – which was probably why he had woken up…he was cold.

He managed to turn over and leaned close to place where her ear was just visible underneath her hair.

"Hey! Bed-hogger! Some comforter would be nice." He whispered quite loudly placing a hand on her bare shoulder where it poked out from her pyjama top.

"Hmm…What?" Casey murmured in her sleep, sounding like she was six years old and being lifted from the car after a long trip. He smiled to himself.

Then her eyes flashed open and she sat up with a little yelp, grabbing at the covers to protect her body.

Derek, startled, leaned back and put up a defensive hand. "Whoa there tiger!"

Confusion filled her sleepy face and she blinked drowsily. He saw the moment when she realised where she was and the point when the tension left her body.

"Sorry. You scared me. I've never slept in bed with a guy before. When you spoke you didn't sound like Lizzie or Marti. It was a bit unnerving."

He stared at her in disbelief. "You've never slept with a guy before? I thought…" He started and all it took was a minute curl of Casey's eyebrow for him to realise it wasn't a good idea to go on.

Casey half-sighed, half-yawned. "I know what you thought, Derek, and what I told you is true. I'm not a virgin. I had a one-night stand and we didn't do much sleeping. Instead I passed out and when I came round in the morning he was gone. Before that I made a point of not sharing a bed with the few guys I've dated since I left home because it might lead to misunderstandings and accusations. They would think I'm ready to be physical when I'm not." She rubbed at her eyes and yawned properly. "And since your death I've been too busy to date, anyway."

"At all?" he sounded disbelieving.

"At all." Her face looked sad. "I was too busy getting my degree and licence," She looked guilty and there were other reasons." Her voice trailed away.

Derek had his suspicions about her "reasons".

"Me?"  
"Your ego is enormous, Derek. But yes, you were one of the reasons I was a mess. I pushed people away."

Derek leaned back in the bed and watched as Casey straightened the covers around them. "Are the rest of the family still like that?" he asked, wondering again just how badly he had screwed up the lives of the people he cared about.  
"No. They miss you really badly, but they had different relationships with you, and their usual support people are still around to help. Marti had a hard time of it, but she had grown closer to Lizzie while we were at college.

For me, however Mom was my go to for the soft fluffy feminine trials of life and for the real world – the hard stuff- it was always you. And when the real world took you…"

Derek took a deep breath that had nothing to do with physical therapy.

"I'm sorry." He said and meant it.

Casey smiled, leaned back against the pillows and rested her head on his shoulder.

"I think hell just froze over." She muttered. "Derek Venturi apologised to me."

He glanced at her, their faces very close but he said nothing.

Casey continued. "It's very nice of you to take the blame, D, but I'm more than capable of screwing up my own life, thank you very much."

Derek picked up her hand and linked their fingers.

"Oh coz you're such a screw up! Dr Probably-passed-her-medical-degree-magma-cum-laude."

"Maxima-cum-laude actually." Casey said looking away.

"Maxima-cum-laude? Is that good?" He was only being half-sarcastic.

Casey chuckled. "That depends on your outlook. It's better than Magma but just short of Summa. It means I had no life, no will to live, only a need to study and a need to graduate. I left with few friends."

He resisted the temptation to make a childish comment about no change there then, instead opting for "Few friends?"  
"Only Steven really. Or at least, he's the only one that hung around."

"Really." Derek didn't sound impressed at Steven's involvement in Casey's life – He hadn't been impressed yesterday either at the fact that she had thought of him so quickly when she needed assistance. "And Steven is…?"

Casey looked taken aback at his tone. "A friend only." She reassured him, slightly bemused that it was necessary. "He has a pushy mom with a very definite idea of what her son's future looks like. She pushed him down the medicine route, which turned out to be a good thing because he is excellent at what he does and he loves it. But she wanted him to go into something prestigious like cardiology or plastic surgery." Casey paused and then noting that Derek was still listening intently, she went on.

"I was at his house the day he told her he was going into Trauma as his specialty and I seriously thought I was going to have to admit her to the ER with a coronary. She has this idea of him playing golf with the Surgeon General and performing heart by-passes on the Prime Minister. I think she even has a hat picked out for his first honour ceremony for services to Medicine." Casey smiled at the thought.

While Casey spoke, neither of them noticed the way Derek was stroking her fingers. In fact, if someone who knew them in their first life had seen them now, they would have been surprised at just how often they touched; or maybe not, because theirs had always been a tactile relationship. Now, however, the touches were based on a need for comfort and reassurance that the other was there, rather than a desire to inflict injury as had often been the case in the past!

Moving unconsciously closer to Derek whilst still maintaining the connection between them, Casey continued.

"She also has definite ideas about his private life: educated and respectable wife, three children – as in heir, spare and token girl."

"And she doesn't approve of you?" Derek asked.

Casey chuckled. "The contrary actually. She has me pegged out as the future Mrs White…or rather Dr White. She likes the idea of introducing us at the country club as the "Drs White". I'm expected to go into ob/gyn practice and work around the kids' school hours. The trouble is Steven and I have never thought of each other like that. We haven't even had the token "we kissed once and it was a disaster"."

"Why not?"

"I was just too screwed up and Steven tells me he always knew it. He says, when pressed," Casey looked pointedly at Derek. "That he sees me like a sister."

Derek snorted and removed his hand so that he could comb his hair with his hand. "Someone has to."

Casey laughed. She knocked a stray lock of hair from his eyes with her finger. "How are you this morning? Your moods are all over the place."

"I don't hurt as much today. My body isn't as stiff from sleep as it has been. I guess I'm on the mend."

"Good. Maybe today we should take a walk outside or something."

Derek didn't say anything and this time, Casey decided to comment on it.

"What?" She asked.

"I have to get back to work." He said apologetically.

Casey groaned. "Derek, it's too soon. You could do yourself a serious injury. Besides, I thought you said that you couldn't go into the office, it was too dangerous."

He tilted his head. "It is. I didn't mean I needed to go into the office. I have stuff I need to do but it's elsewhere."  
"Then let me do it for you." Casey said. "I'm not stupid Derek. I can carry out a set of instructions. Remember when you had Chicken Pox. I helped you then."  
"Casey, the worst that could have happened then was a week's suspension. The worst case scenario here is Dad and Nora burying a second child, possibly even organising a joint funeral."

She smiled. "Do you think they'd put us in the same grave? Save on costs."

Derek glared at her and thumped an angry fist down on the bed. "This is not a fucking joke, McDonald! It's real life. People die. This is not some lame trip to the mall for new nail polish and glittery eye-shadow. This is me going places to collect stuff that I need to protect myself – to survive. The places I will visit are my safe havens and without them I _can't_ survive. What I do is lethal Casey and I'm fighting a losing battle to stay alive."

Casey's own eyes flashed, spurred on by his anger. "Don't you think I know that, you asshole? I was there, remember. I flew in the helicopter. I had to tell your father you were dead. Jesus Derek, I've not five minutes ago told you that your death caused my whole world to collapse. I admitted to you that I cared enough to hurt when you were gone." Tears welled up in her eyes. "So can't you see why don't want you walking out of that door and into danger knowing that I could help?"

"I'm not putting you at risk." He said determined.

"I'm not asking you to."

"You're fucking kidding me?"

"I'm not. I'm asking you to _trust_ me. Look if you won't let me go on my own. Let me come with you. I can make sure that you don't hurt yourself more and if something goes wrong there's a doctor on the scene as soon as possible."

"No Casey."

"Derek."  
"No!" he said firmly. "And unless you want me to walk out of that door immediately and never come back I suggest you drop it." He flung back the covers and pulled himself off the bed. Then he stomped off into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Only when he was out of sight did he let the pain from his side show on his face.

Casey stared at the door for a moment without moving until something tickled her cheek and she reached up to brush it off. It was tears and lots of them, but she hadn't been aware that she was crying.

* * *

Derek was still in the bathroom. Casey had stood at the door and listened to him first cleaning his teeth then running the shower. Scared that he would leave as soon as he was dressed, she sat on the floor in front of the door to the room, barring his escape route.

As she waited, she thought back to the past few days and all their conversations. The honesty between them surprised her and if it wasn't for the possibility that any minute he would run again she would be pleased that they had come so far with their relationship. She still knew very little of his life since college though, and if she got the opportunity, Casey decided she wanted to know about the things he had been doing in his new life: his spare time activities, because he must have some. Where had he been spending Thanksgiving and Christmases? And who he had last spent his birthday with? She also wondered about the girls, because he was Derek and there were bound to have been girls. The latter thought made her just a little sick. Casey wondered if she had the strength to ask and then hear his answer.

The bathroom door opened and Derek emerged, looking taken aback when he saw her sitting there. He grinned and leaned against the door post.

"Worried I'm going to make a run for it?"

"Something like that."

"Not today." He said softly and held out a hand to help her up. Casey stood in front of him and their eyes monitored each other carefully. Derek broke the gaze and kissed her forehead. "Why do you care?" he asked.

"I don't know." Casey lied. "Why are you still here?"  
"No idea." Derek lied in return.

* * *

He took her out for breakfast both of them so wrapped up in winter clothing their own mothers wouldn't recognise them. They held hands as they negotiated the pathways, some of which were better gritted than others, both Casey and Derek putting the affectionate gesture down to practicalities.

As they walked, Casey tried to lead the conversation towards Derek's new life and the everyday details.

"So how different is Ottawa to London?" She asked.

Derek smirked. "You know. Same old shit only bigger, more impressive apparently. Although they had issues last Christmas when they finally found something that our nation's capital lacked."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. They wanted to have the usual Christmas story at Notre Dame but couldn't find three wise men and a virgin, although there were enough asses to fill the stable." He smirked at her.

Casey groaned. "Der-ek, that joke's so old it could have gone to school with your dad."

Derek laughed and slipping an arm around her shoulders, pulled her close.

"It probably did. I think it was Ed that told me it the first time so maybe it did come from George."

Casey slipped her own arm around his waist. "Nah. The first time around it was actually a decent joke. Not many of _them_ come from Edwin or George."

They both laughed and Casey felt a wave of love and something approaching regret pass over her. She looked up at him and he saw snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and landing on bright pink cheeks. "I know you want to run, Derek, but please don't run away from _me_."

"I'm not _running_, princess. I am leaving but it's an inch at a time." His voice had a sad tone that she didn't think she had heard before, and certainly not in connection with their relationship.

A car passed by a bit too close for comfort and they both jumped and started to pay more attention to their surroundings. The snow was coming faster now.

"Come on!" said Derek grabbing her hand again. "Let's get inside before you look anymore like Frosty."

They breakfasted on pancakes and syrup with large mugs of hot chocolate in a nearby diner. Casey shivered at the sugar rush, but she didn't comment. Derek talked about Ottawa a little more, though nothing personal. His fingers rested on the table between them and every now and then he brushed her hand. It was an affectionate gesture, romantic even and Casey's mind started to wander as she considered what it would be like to be on a date with Derek – till she caught herself in the act of the daydream and chuckling slightly, reined herself in.

"What's so amusing?" Derek asked noticing a sparkle in her eyes which was almost like that in the glow of a candle and therefore completely alien under this fluorescent light.

"Nothing." She giggled, wondering if she would ever have the nerve to explain to him where her mind had just gone.

"Are you laughing at me McDonald?" he asked, curling his eyebrow.

"No. I'm laughing at myself." She answered honestly.

"Yeah well, that's understandable." He said, smirking.

Casey aimed a kick under the table. "Be nice."

"I am. I just bought you breakfast."

"I know, and I appreciate it…rare a gesture as it is. Do you want me to "lend" you the money when the check comes?"

"I can buy a girl a meal without borrowing money. I'm not a teenager anymore, sweetheart."  
"I noticed."

"Was that when you took my clothes off to "check me out"?" He put the last three words in air quotes.

Casey blushed. "I was not "checking you out". I was looking for injuries." She protested.

"You blush very easily." He noted.

"I'm over dressed and it's warm in here." Said Casey defensively.

Derek chuckled. "So take some clothes off." He suggested.

"Why? So you can "check _me_ out"?" Casey retorted.

"I'm not a doctor. I can't claim medical reasons for _my_ voyeurism, sweetheart."

"For the last time…"

"Mind you," Derek interrupted. "I am a cop…maybe I could just _frisk_ you."

Casey narrowed her eyes at him. "Just you try it, _sweetheart_."

Derek widened his own eyes. "Sorry, Casey, but I didn't hear you correctly. Was that a _challenge_?" His brown eyes sparkled with mischief and Casey was glad for the table between them…sort of.

"I think," She began. "That it's time for us to move on."

"Yeah. You're right. The table's in the way here. Let's go somewhere with a little more throw down room." Derek teased.

Casey groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Der-ek! Just stop, would you…please?" She begged.

Derek stood up and tossed some bills onto the table, and then he held out a hand to Casey to help her out of the booth. She took the proffered hand and let him pull her up. A laughing Derek caught her dramatically in his arms, much to the amusement of some of the other customers.

Trapped, Casey tried to read his expression. There was the superficial amusement of course, but there was something else there. His eyes were dark, drawing her in and for a fraction of a second Casey considered closing the gap between their mouths.

"Casey…" Derek murmured, his eyes warm and intense.

"Yes." She whispered back, breathlessly.

"You got any change for a tip?"

And with that typical Derek comment, the spell was broken.

* * *

Casey seethed for two whole blocks and whilst some of the anger was aimed at him, the majority of it was at herself. She had allowed herself to believe for a tiny moment that he felt the same way about her as she did about him. But it was clear from the way that he joked about it that being with Casey was the furthest thing from Derek's mind. As her own mind provided the reality check her heart desperately needed, her pace quickened and Derek had to increase his own stride to match.

"I was joking." He said after another half a block. "You know…the thing people with a sense of humour do?" He wondered if the bitterness he felt showed in his tone. Did she really have to be so negative about his flirting with her?

"I'm not in the mood, Derek." Casey said in tone that she hoped would cut off the conversation.

He briefly considered cracking another flirtatious joke, but decided on reflection it probably wasn't a good idea. The further they walked, the more he regretted annoying her. In a short while he would be gone from her life again and he didn't want their last few hours to be spent arguing.

"Okay. Here's a one time offer." He announced shortly afterwards. "I will take you to whatever museum or" He shivered. "art gallery you want to go to…without complaining. Deal?"

Casey stopped suddenly and looked at him. "You're kidding?"

Derek shook his head. "Nah. I mean it. Just make sure if it's an art gallery it has a section on naked chicks."

* * *

Casey chose The Canadian Museum of Contemporary Photography as their activity for the day and they both enjoyed the visit. Derek had often wondered if he would have pursued his love of the camera had things been different. His grades in the relevant subjects at college had been pretty good and he had always thought of it as a fall back if the hockey didn't work out. Of course the decision was taken out of his hands, but he still appreciated photographic images, moving and otherwise. It had been a good choice on Casey's part and by the time the evening came, they were both in a good mood, and the arguing limited to the affectionate banter that comes with being comfortable with your companion.

They ate dinner in a little restaurant around the corner from the hotel, quiet, understated and candlelit. They didn't bother to change for dinner as Derek had very few clothes at Casey's hotel, but it didn't spoil the mood. It softened the hard edges on both their characters and made Casey's daydreaming a little more believable.

Derek sipped his wine and watched Casey across the table surreptitiously.

She was beautiful tonight as always. Her hair framed her face and her eyes were doing that twinkling thing again. She had given so much of herself to him in the last few days: her medical knowledge, her care and concern, most of all her patience. The thought of leaving her was a painful one.

He had promised her he wouldn't leave today and he would stick to that.

Instead, he waited until after midnight.


	23. In The Dead of Night Part 1

Derek went to bed beside Casey again that night and though he hadn't said so to her, sharing his bed with another person was unusual for him too. He'd had a lot more sex than Casey, but he was proud of the fact that he could count his number of partners using just the digits on his hands, so he wasn't exactly promiscuous. It was just that, even when he was in a steady relationship, he had never stayed the night. He had never turned up at his girlfriend's apartment with clothes for the following day or even a toothbrush. It just hadn't been him. Or maybe the girls concerned just weren't the right sort of girls.

Lying next to Casey, waking up next to Casey however was kind of nice, even though it was a completely different situation…wasn't it?

He would have described it as "sleeping" next to Casey, except tonight he didn't allow himself to drift off. Instead he just lay there in the dark listening to her soft breathing. He watched the rise and fall of her (covered) chest and listened to the whisper of breath from her lips. Her scent filled the air, her hair covered his pillow and hers, and the sight of her lying beside him was almost unbearable.

He was leaving. And it hurt: more than he had thought it would…more than it had last time.

Tonight he was going to walk out of her hotel room and out of her life…again. He was going to do it because it was the right thing to do.

Casey didn't belong in his world; she was too soft-skinned, too easy to hurt. She needed soft beds, a soft life…a soft guy.

The right thing to do?…it was.

Without question.

It was also without question one of the hardest things he had ever had to do. In some respects it was harder than turning his back on his family, because then he hadn't known the loneliness of the following years.

Derek wasn't a loner by nature. He was the kind of guy who surrounded himself with people. He needed company. But this hurt was born of more than that. He had spent hours thinking about all of his friends and family who he had left when they buried Derek Venturi; he had pictured Sam playing hockey, Ralph playing hookie, and Robbie just playing.

He could admit it now, however, looking down at her sleeping form. The person he had thought most about was Casey.

As the minutes past midnight ticked on, he eased himself from under the covers and crept across the room to the pile of clothes he had left on the armchair. They looked haphazard but he had laid them there in a particular order, ready for just this moment. He dressed quickly and returned to the bed to look at her; her breathing still rhythmic and her pyjama-ed body still curled on _her_ side of the bed.

"I'm sorry, love." He said softly and blew her a kiss because he didn't dare to touch her. He told himself it was because she might wake. The reality was he might not let go.

Grabbing his things he made for the door and his last act before leaving was the placing of a letter on top of her purse. Then he opened the door and left.

_Dear Casey,_

_I'm sorry. I'm a screw-up and an asshole of the highest order, and believe me when I say you are better off with me out of your life._

_I need to do this. You aren't safe around me, and I'm not safe until I find out who killed Grubby and hurt Jazz. I can't risk you being involved._

_Your help has meant the world to me, so don't think I am doing this lightly. But, I can't take another family member from Dad and Nora. They have been the best of parents and they deserve peace and quiet in their lives. They don't deserve the violence I am forced to deal with – and neither do you, sis._

_I know you are angry with me. I'm angry with myself. If there was a way to avoid this, believe me sweetheart I would have done it. _

_But there isn't, so it's goodbye…of sorts._

_When I said goodbye last time, I said I would sever all ties, but I can't do that anymore. So this is goodbye… for now. You will probably never _see_ me again._

_But I WILL be in touch._

_Love Derek X_

* * *

Once out of Casey's room, he took the stairs rather than the elevator down to the foyer as per his habit. It was late but the main entrance was still open to allow for people who had been out late to return with minimum hassle. He nodded at the receptionist and made for the front entrance as a young guy leapt up from the concierge's cubby hole and followed him outside.

"Do you have a ticket, Sir?" The young hotel employee asked. Derek nodded. His car _was_ valet-parked at the hotel. If it had been a pool car he would have abandoned it, but it was his own pride and joy in a world where he had few personal belongings, so he took a risk and recovered it. As he waited for the valet to bring the vehicle round, he breathed in the icy air and marvelled at how much better he felt now than he had those few short days ago when he had passed the keys to the same young guy. Then Derek had been holding his side, gasping for breath and wondering if he had punctured a lung – or worse.

As he was contemplating the frosty night, the valet pulled up and Derek tipped him well before climbing in to the sleek sports car and screeching away – an act unavoidable because of the road surface and the width of Derek's tyres. Derek winced. He hated anything which drew attention to him.

He drove through familiar streets trying not to think about the beauty lying in bed at the hotel. His actions would hurt her, again, but to Derek the alternative consequences would have been far worse. A contrasting vision of Casey lying cold on a slab the way he had seen Grubby flitted across his mind, and Derek swallowed hard against the idea of losing her in that way…in any way. He was beginning to realise he could cope with anything else – everything else - but losing Casey.

The car weaved along empty streets because it was so late at night, and he was avoiding the bar and club areas. He was going "home".

* * *

Derek's apartment had its own underground garage, and he had his own space, but tonight he avoided it, preferring to park on the street instead because he wasn't stopping.

The building he was going to was nice, and it contained the apartment which was nominally his home; here was the address on his driving licence, employee record, the one he copied onto the social security paperwork. But it _wasn't_ his home. He had no emotional tie to this apartment. To be truthful, he had no emotional tie to any of the properties he owned/rented. Emotional attachment to a building comes from memories of good times there. The only person who ever set foot in one of Derek's apartments was Derek himself. It's hard to make memories on your own.

Derek parked a half block down and walked the short distance to the side entrance; he always used the side entrance. The concierge at the main entrance was a nice guy, friendly and helpful and in another life, Derek would like the guy. But in this life, "friendly" was nosey, "helpful" was intrusive and Derek avoided contact where he could.

Especially tonight. He didn't want anyone to know he was home.

He climbed the steep flights of stairs to his floor, cautious at each step and conscious of the rush of adrenaline pumping through his veins. He was unarmed for the first time in seven years, walking into a possible trap; Derek wasn't going to relax until his apartment door was slammed shut behind him. Until then, his senses were on high alert and even thoughts of Casey were banished from his mind. He had told his heart to get used to that. Casey would not be around anymore, so thinking of her was wasted effort.

Yeah…that hadn't worked seven years ago either.

Right now though, when the sense of danger was palpable, he pushed her from his mind and concentrated on the job at hand, inching open the fire door at the top of his staircase, and peeking through the gap at his landing. It looked clear, so he reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his apartment, and then checked the landing again. Satisfied that it was safe, he exited the stairwell and crossed the short distance to his front door. He dealt with the high security door lock and passed into the space beyond, letting the door click softly shut behind him.

Entering his apartment was a surreal experience. It was hard to see the familiar empty rooms now. Before the uncluttered space was comforting, now it was just bare. Before this had been the place he escaped to, now it symbolised what he was escaping from.

Derek glanced at his watch. He didn't want to be here any longer than necessary. He had been involved in the discovery of Grubby's body and he had been the last person to speak to Jazz. If someone was looking for Mikey, _this_ was the place they would come to first. He needed to collect what he had come for and move on…quickly.

He started in his bedroom. The bed covers were still haphazard from the last time he slept there. Derek opened his closet and pulled out a holdall, tossing it onto the bed casually and immediately turning back to his clothes. He slipped a hand into the dark space and lifted the clothes out, dumping them unceremoniously into his bag and returning for more. He needed to clear the closet and the bathroom, open his safe and remove the contents, and then he needed to be on his way. There was nothing else: his shelves were bookless, his bedside table clear and his walls bare.

The task of packing progressed quickly, just three trips to the closet and its associated drawers and then he moved onto the en-suite bathroom. If he had been in more of a hurry he would have abandoned the stuff in the bathroom, but finding a drugstore open this far into the night would not be exactly easy and it was one more set of people to see him between "havens". So he would take this razor and toothbrush, pleased that it meant one less stop before he reached his goal.

Derek chucked the wash-bag into the open holdall which was now stuffed and glanced around the room for more of his belongings…nothing. The furniture was rented like the apartment, the bed linen and towels cheap and he knew, because he was so practiced at this, that the only things left in the apartment were the contents of his safe.

He picked up the holdall, ready to leave the bedroom and move on to empty the safe. As he turned to go through the bedroom door, however, he froze.

Standing in the door, large and unyielding was a big black guy Derek didn't recognise. He was probably the same height as Derek, but he was also twice the width and his frame filled the doorway. His thick-muscular arms were folded across his chest, his face set and his whole demeanour intimidating. Derek felt a long chill run down his back, cold like an ice cube but lasting longer.

"Mr Essen?" The black guy spoke calmly and with a bizarrely polite and gentle voice.

Derek nodded reluctantly.

"You need to come with me. My boss wants to talk to you. Come on. Let's go!" The big guy seemed to think that Derek had no choice.

Derek thought otherwise.

"Really. What a shame! I'm just about to leave on a trip. Maybe some other time?" He tried to bluff, keeping to the balls of his feet ready for flight. He glanced behind him towards the windows but the apartment was four stories up and the fire exit was in the living room. He backed towards window wall anyway. His plan was to draw the guy into the room. If the only way out of the room was through the doorway, he needed the man-mountain to move out of the way.

If Derek was James Bond, he would have had a gun somewhere in his bedroom or a knife taped to the underside of his bed. That was the sort of thing the hot shot cops and spies did in the movies.

He would have had a tiny .22 pistol strapped using duck tape to the hairy skin beneath his socks, ready to be whipped out and fired into the assailant.

Derek had neither and really, he wasn't regretful of that fact, he was realistic (and ever so slightly skittish about duck tape and his leg hair). It would require an elephant gun to take down the man in front of him. He was less "The Fridge" and more "Le Deep Freeze".

Normally, Derek did keep his gun under his pillow when he was home. He had no worries about it going off accidentally because he was the only one who slept in the bed or stepped foot in the bedroom, but that of course was before the gun was stolen.

As for the knife idea, well, Derek had never been particularly good with knives.

The one time he had attempted to take a pen-knife into school (he was old enough to be pre-metal detectors), he had cut himself badly with the damn thing. His father had been called to take him to the ER and Derek had had to make up some lame excuse about unnecessarily sharp coke cans, and a hot senior who had happened to be walking past as he was trying to bend back the ring pull.

George had merely raised an eyebrow and in one of his more "clued in" moments said. "No more coke cans, Derek" in such a serious voice that Derek was left in no doubt that his father "knew".

After that, he had announced loudly in the halls at school that he wasn't so lame as to be seen with something so ridiculous as a blade and the local police precinct had a bumper "knife amnesty" the following week.

But back to the bedroom…where the talking gorilla was being rather eloquent.

"Mr Essen. Believe me. It is in your _best_ interests to come with me. Failure to do so will result in a most unpleasant and painful situation. After all, we both know what happened to the last two friends of yours who crossed my boss." Big, black guy (BBG) grinned the way he spoke – charmingly.

Derek winced. And the big black looked thoughtful. "It was tragic." BBG said. "But if you spill your guts…what do you expect? Tell me, did they manage to scoop _all_ of him up, or did they just get the best bits?"

Derek hissed and took a step forward in anger. It was bad enough that a decent hard working cop had been brought down in the course of his duty. Derek didn't want to hear one of the people who had obviously been involved, mock him. It made Derek want to forget himself. He wanted to inflict large amounts of pain on the guy before him. Hard, long-lasting pain.

Derek calculated the odds. They weren't good. The only thing he had in his favour was his size; smaller and lighter he would be able to move quickly. But that was only useful if he had somewhere to move to…he was trapped and both he and BBG knew it. Derek's captor relaxed slightly as he recognised he had the upperhand. All he had to do was wait.

Derek was still running through scenarios in his head, trying to work out how he could lure the guy into the room and what he could attack him with if he did.

He thought about running to the window, pushing it up and then tipping the guy out when he tried to stop him. It was a plausible idea, except that Derek doubted BBG would fit.

He also thought about pulling the rug out from under BBG, toppling him backwards. Again another plausible plan, until you realised that the guy probably weighed three hundred pounds, and Derek didn't have that kind of weight advantage.

Nor did he have a rug in his bedroom.

Derek had actually got as far as the idea of dashing into the bathroom, slamming the door and calling 911 – figuring he would take the department leak option (no pun intended) rather than the "eviscerated by a three hundred pound gorilla" option, when the obstruction in question - the one in the doorway - suddenly pitched forward as if he had been pole-axed.

It was farcical.

One minute the large guy was beaming broadly, threateningly, cutting out all the light from the living room. The next minute, he was leaning forward, his eyes crossed and his skin turning an unhealthy grey.

Finally he was lying still and unmoving facedown on the carpet a short distance from Derek's feet.

Derek, who had watched the fall rather as one watches the tumbling of a large oak tree when it has been struck by lumberjacks, raised his eyes from the stationary lump in front of him up to the space where the lump had previously been standing.

There, _now _standing in the doorway dressed in a large furry (fake of course!) coat with bright red flannel pyjama legs poking out from underneath was Casey McDonald brandishing a large heavy iron frying pan.

And she looked pissed.


	24. Baby Blue

If Casey had expected to see gratitude on Derek's face she was disappointed. He looked livid. In fact the pair of them stood there glaring at each other for several seconds.

Derek was angry because, despite all his best efforts, she had shoe-horned herself into his work and therefore into danger. He wondered if she realised the man-mountain on the floor would be monumentally (pun-intended) pissed when he came round and wouldn't rest until he had reeked vengeance on the person responsible for his massive headache. OR that her presence in the apartment put her on the radar of a killer.

It didn't help that she was female and therefore apparently a soft target being the "weaker" sex and she was personally linked to Derek, so she would become leverage against him.

Saying goodbye to her now, letting her out of his sight for even a fraction of a second was impossible. Casey needed soft and gentle and she'd just won herself hard and sharp.

So…yeah. He was pissed.

Casey was very angry too. There was a fire in her eyes that bore into him relentlessly, and with the frying pan still held in her raised hand she actually looked pretty intimidating. But the source of her anger was confusing to him; out of proportion if it was about him leaving her in the middle of the night. She had known he would leave. She had accepted it last time with little fuss.

Derek opened his mouth to say something like "Do you realise what you've done? You've screwed your life up for the foreseeable future!" But he never got the words out because Casey, stepping over the mound at her feet, advanced. If she was brandishing the pan in her right hand, she was also threatening him with something in her left.

"What…" She screeched. "…do you call _this_?"

"This" was a screwed up ball of good quality hotel desk paper: Derek's goodbye letter.

"I'd have thought it was self-explanatory."

Casey's face fell momentarily. "Self-explanatory." She murmured quietly. Part of her looked more upset than angry. "Yes. I suppose it is." She added bleakly.

Then she frowned and the anger was back.

"But for the record, Derek: I am not, I have never been, nor will I ever be your_ Sis/Sister/sibling_! So if you _ever_ refer to me as such again…"

Derek interrupted, still wearing a look of confusion on his face. "When did I call you my sister?"

"I quote:" She stated smoothing out the note and reading. ""They don't deserve the violence I am forced to deal with – and neither do you, _sis_."" She glanced up. "It's not right, Derek! I demand you take it back!"

He stared at her with something approaching amused disbelief.

"Let me get this straight. You followed me here and bashed the crap out of a big bad guy with a frying pan because you are pissed that I called you "Sis"?"

And then he chuckled. "That figures! You haven't changed a bit!"

Casey's eyes flashed again. "Laugh it up, wise-guy." She spoke deliberately, bouncing the frying pan so that it hit the palm of her hand ominously. Derek swallowed.

Then because sometimes he has a deathwish, he decided to argue his case.

"What would you rather I called you? Step-sis, Step-sib? _Steppie_?" He tried it with a smirk but it sounded weak even to his ears. Casey took a step forward and Derek held up a hand.

"Come on. It's a valid question."

"What happened to "princess", "sweetheart", "_love_" even?" Casey asked her voice small again.

"You _want_ me to call you "princess"? I thought you said you weren't my "princess" and, _I quote,_ "never have been"!"

"I changed my mind. Women are allowed to do that, remember?" Casey was pointing with the pan now.

It didn't faze Derek.

"Oh yeah! Who could forget McDonald rule number fifty _five_!" Derek snarked.

"Don't mock, Derek. You were the one with the Male Code." She nearly took his eye out and he ducked.  
"Hey! That was born of desperation. You _dated_ my best friend!" He pointed out catching hold of the pan.

"No thanks to you!" Casey replied, lowering it.

Derek relaxed slightly. "Well what do you expect? I was holding on to a life line that you'd at least be out of my hair when I was with my friends – and then you started dating them!"

"I dated Sam, Derek. Not the whole damn hockey team."

"Did you just say "damn"? You know your mouth is like a potty these days." Derek tilted his head to one side and regarded her critically.  
"Who the hell's fault do you think that is?" Casey retorted.

"Oh great! I disappear for a few years and _everything_ becomes _my_ fault. Are you going to blame the failing economy and the lack of world peace on me now?"

"There's certainly no peace here when you're around!"

"Right back at ya, Sweetheart."

The lump on the floor groaned slightly.

"Shit! He's coming round!" Derek said in a panic. Casey whacked BBG on the back of the head again.

"Nice move, Casey. Now instead of one bump on the head to hunt you down for he has two! Doesn't that go against the Hypercritical Oath or something?"

"Hippocratic Oath, Lamebrain." Casey sighed. "Oh grow up Derek!"

"After you, honey." Derek smirked in return.

Casey bent down to check the man she had just hit, her conscience tweaked by Derek's question. She visible relaxed when she found a pulse.

"He's fine. He won't stay out for long though. We should go."

"No shit." Derek mumbled, grabbing his holdall and pushing past her through the bedroom door. He turned toward one of the doors off the main living space and Casey trailed after him.

"Where are you going? The kitchen? Derek we don't have time for food!"

He turned to look at her over his shoulder.

"Do I look like I'm going for something to eat?"

Casey paused. "Quite frankly…yes. But then you are always in the mood for food so…"  
Derek held up a hand, a serious look on his face. "Not now Casey."

She broke off the rest of her sentence obediently and watched him as he moved a large cookie jar on the kitchen surface. Then he pushed one of the small tiles behind it with a click and a whole section of tiling pinged open in one piece to form a small door. Recessed behind it was a large wall safe.

Derek entered the combination and opened the door.

"Go watch sleeping beauty." He ordered her. For once, Casey didn't argue.

In her absence, Derek pulled out a plastic folder, two different sized handguns and two boxes of ammo. He slid the ammo and the folder into his holdall, holstered the larger of the two hand guns, and pushed the other one into the gap between his waist and his jeans at the small of his back. He let out a sigh of relief at being armed again and picking up his bag walked out of the kitchen – but not before taking two cookies from the jar!

Casey wasn't in the living room but he could see her in the bedroom doorway.

"Hey! Spacey! Get your ass out here now. It's time to go."

She was with him in a flash, as eager to leave as he was.

Derek was as careful with his leaving of his apartment as he had been arriving, but this time he was much faster. He kept Casey behind him, slinging the holdall over his left shoulder and pulling the larger gun from his holster to carrying in his right hand.

"It's weird." Casey said as he led her across the landing.

"What is?" Derek asked.

"Seeing you armed."

Derek shrugged. "Tools of the trade." He said. "It used to be a hockey stick. If you think about it, I've always been armed."

"I think I preferred it when it was with just your charm." She said wryly. Derek chuckled. "Me too, princess." He said, putting a finger to his lips to tell her to be quiet. "Me too."

It wasn't as easy leaving the building as it had been entering it. When he cracked the door open a fraction, the main ground floor lobby had an unusual number of people in it for the early hour of the morning, and Derek was immediately suspicious. He couldn't get to either the side or front entrances without going past the new occupants. There was, however a fire escape at the bottom of the stairs where he was, but it was alarmed. Breaking the strap would immediately alert the concierge and the people in the lobby that someone was trying to leave the building. That wasn't so much of a problem for him, but Casey…

Derek closed the door so that the tiny gap where he had been monitoring the lobby disappeared and pulled Casey back into the shadows. Once there, he pressed himself close to her and placed his lips so close to her ear that they brushed her skin.

"I'm going out of that door." He whispered, pointing to the one with the alarm. "It's going to draw their attention to me, but I can't just walk out of the front. I need you to go out of the front. They don't recognise you yet, so you should be okay but you need to get a move on before BBG comes down and tells them what you did."

Casey nodded. Derek handed her his car keys.

"When you get outside, turn right and walk up the street about half a block. There's a Biscayne Blue sports car. Get in it, keep your head down and wait for me."

"Will you be okay?" Casey asked, worry etched on her face.

"Pur-lease!" He scoffed, but then stopped and became more serious. "If I'm not there in five minutes or they come looking for you, get out of there quick and go to the main police precinct. Ask for Chief Superintendent Manning."

"Is he a friend?"  
"No. He's an ass-hole, but he's also straight and won't take crap from anyone. He'll make sure you're alright."

Casey nodded. "Biscayne Blue, Manning. Check!" She said, and Derek caught a tiny bit of excitement behind her eyes.

"Casey. Take this seriously. I don't want any Operation Purple Fog fiascos here, okay."

"Trust me." She grinned. "I'm a doctor."

Derek groaned and Casey closed the tiny gap between then and kissed him quickly on the lips. Her face serious.

"I'll be careful D. Just make sure you are."

He held her eyes for a moment, and she saw the affection there which was so new to their relationship. Affection and something deeper.

"You too…_sis_!" He said with a wink.

Casey glared at him even as she walked towards the door to the lobby.

"Wait!" Derek hissed. "Here. Take the bag. It should be easier for you to get it past them."

Casey nodded and took hold of the handle, and then she turned to the door and pushed it open.

It was nerve-wracking how every one turned to look at her as she emerged into the lobby. The concierge caught her eye and she smiled weakly.

"Did you find Mr Hunter?" he asked her, referring to the lie Casey had told to get into the building.

Casey nodded her head and screwed her face up into the beginnings of a sob.

"He told me it was over and gave me all my things back." She choked out holding up Derek's bag.

"Aw! Do you want me to call you a cab?" The guy asked. Casey shook her head and then Derek's car keys at him. The concierge ran to the door to help her.

Casey stepped out into the late night/early morning air and tried hard not to let her desire to get away look suspicious.

"You know it's weird." said the concierge to the guy standing next to him in the lobby, when she had gone. "I could have sworn old Hunter was gay…just goes to show, you never can tell."

The guy beside him looked thoughtful and then towards the street door, but before he could react, an alarm went off.

"Shit! That's the fire exit alarm!" The concierge shouted. "Aw! Hell! I'm going to get an earful in the morning." And then he and everyone else in the lobby ran towards the door marked Fire Exit.

Casey waited until she was out of sight of the building and then sprinted up the street in the direction Derek had told her to.

Halfway up the block she realised she had a problem. There were five blue cars parked in that section of the street: four were dark shades and one was paler – three of them were sports cars! She looked at the key fob in her hand but it was no help.

"Bugger!" She hissed and looked around wildly. "Which one is Biscayne Blue?"

* * *

Derek waited until Casey was safely out of the building and then he broke the strap on the emergency exit. He had re-holstered his weapon so that he could have both hands free and when he reached the alley behind the apartment block he was glad he had. There was a car blocking the entrance to the alley and the driver was leaning against the vehicle. He hadn't seen Derek yet, but the moment he stepped away from the building he would be visible. Derek thought quickly and decided he needed to turn towards the dead end of the alley. There was a large wall there but with help from the dumpster and pull-down fire escape, he should be able to get over it.

He was on the dumpster reaching for the fire escape when the guy at the end of the ally spotted him. What had drawn his attention though was the crash of the fire door as the people who had previously been occupying the lobby of his building came bursting out. Derek turned away from them and concentrated on the job at hand: Dumpster, fire escape, step over rail, step onto wall…jump down the other side.

He landed heavily on the other side and glanced around.

It was another alley but there was nothing blocking the end like the one behind his own building. Derek ran down the alley and out on to the street to find that he was on one of the streets which ran parallel to his own. It didn't help because he was still immediately disoriented. He mentally tossed a coin and followed the road north because he thought that was the direction Casey was in and he had seen a straight-through alley there. Just as he rounded the corner, however, he realised that his pursuers were clustered at the far end of that one. Derek turned on his feet and headed south.

He could hear shouting coming from the nearby streets and began to feel like a trapped fox.

Derek kept up a brisk pace, and it appeared the others did too. They seemed to be matching him stride for stride, the only thing keeping them from reaching him was the lack of an accommodating alley between them. It was only a matter of time; time which ran out at the next corner. Derek rounded it and saw not only that it linked through to the street on which he "lived", but that there was one of his pursuers at the end looking straight up at him. The pursuer shouted and Derek heard replies and running feet. He turned and fled across the street.

Straight into the path of a cab.

The cab screeched to a halt, the driver getting out and shouting at him in a language Derek didn't recognise. Derek thought on his feet.

"Police!" He shouted at the cab driver. "Get back in the car I need you to take me somewhere!"

The driver started to protest.

"You take me where I want to go…and I don't look too closely at your work permit." Derek panted, finally finding his ID card in his pocket. He climbed into the cab behind the driver and slammed the door. The driver pulled away just as Derek's "fanclub" reached the end of the alley. Derek waved cheerfully at them as the cab sped away.

* * *

A few minutes later, the cab turned down the street where Derek's car was. He leaned forward and spoke to the driver.

"I want you to quietly pull up by that car over there and stop. I'm going to get out. _You_ are going to keep moving until you are level with that ugly building over there. When you get to just in front of it I want you to floor the cab as dramatically and as noisily as you can. I want those guys over there to see you. Do you understand? But under no circumstances do you let them get close enough to see _inside_ the cab. Here." Derek handed him a hundred dollar bill. "Thanks. You probably saved two lives tonight."

The cab driver looked surprised but took the money.

Derek slipped from the cab and crouching down, crept across the street to his own car. The cab driver followed Derek's instructions perfectly. He crawled quietly along until he reached the apartment building and then, in front of the milling "bad guys", he put his foot down on the gas pedal and with a cloud of smoke from his cab's wheels he took off – tyres protesting all the way.

Derek grinned as the people who had been chasing him for the past ten minutes ran to nearby cars and leapt into them.

Soon the street was empty.

Too empty.

Derek frowned as he straightened and looked inside his car. It too was empty. Where the hell was Casey?

"It's baby blue!" A voice said beside him, startling the hell out of him. "If you had said baby blue I would have been able to find it. There are five blue cars on this street, three of them sports cars. If you had just said "the baby blue one" I would have found it."

"It's not "baby blue"." He hissed. "It's Biscayne Blue. I don't drive a "baby blue" car. And why the hell didn't you press the remote on the key fob? The lights would have flashed and you could have seen which car it was."

Casey's eyes widened. "Oh…I didn't think of that." She admitted.

Derek chuckled and took the keys from her hand. "Tell me…that medical degree of yours…did you buy it over the internet?"


	25. The Nest

**An: Apologies for my less than prompt updates. My father-in-law died unexpectedly on Friday. As well as supporting my husband I also had to do all the commitments we made for the weekend on my own while he had to go and help his mom and her second husband organise everything. It's been a draining few days.**

**As I've said, this is the first part in a series of three stories. Some things will be resolved in this story but not everything.**

_Recap: Seven years ago Derek "died" in a shooting at a bank which has a devastating impact on his family, particularly Casey. After meeting a "friend" of Derek's and growing close to him, Casey has travelled to Ottawa for a vacation. There she discovers that Derek is still alive, that he was targeted because he witnessed a major crime and that he thinks his life is too dangerous for Casey to remain in it. Casey takes matters into her own hands, following him when he leaves her. She arrives at his "apartment" in time to stop him being abducted but her actions bring her to the attention of the bad guys._

_After the events of last chapter, Casey is now a part of Derek's world - and he isn't happy about it!_

"Where are we going?" Casey asked after they had been driving for a while. She knew so little of Ottawa that every street looked familiar. If she was relying on her sense of direction, however, she would have assumed that they were heading vaguely back towards the hotel.

"Somewhere safe." Derek replied, his eyes flitting between the road in front of him and the road behind him visible in his mirrors. The movement wasn't lost on Casey and it distracted her momentarily.

"Are you worried we're being followed?" Casey twisted her own head around even though she had no idea what they were looking for.

"Relax. There's no one there, but I'm making sure it stays that way before I head out of here and make for the safe house."

"Are you going to drop me back at the hotel?" Her voice was quiet because she dreaded the answer; back to the hotel would require another goodbye.

Derek glanced at her. "You don't get it, do you?" He was frustrated at her apparent desire to put herself in danger.

Casey looked irritated. "No, I don't get it, because you never explain anything. Just what exactly is eating you?"  
"Casey, what you did back there was fucking stupid! You walked into the middle of an active case and pissed off one of the major players in a horrific homicide. I wasn't kidding when I said my job was dangerous and I needed to keep you out of it. I'm not your stupid hockey-playing step-brother anymore, honey. I'm a cop and I spend most of my days up to my chest in shit. I didn't want you out of the way because I don't want to be wi…around you. I wanted you out of the way for your own protection. Your actions mean I don't have a choice anymore. You're stuck with me now until I bring these guys down. It's the only way you'll be safe."  
"But I don't understand why they would be interested in me."  
"Sweetheart, you're too close to me. They could use you to get at me; to put pressure on me."  
"Yeah…right. They obviously haven't seen the two of us together if they'd think it would make a difference to you." Casey sounded petulant but the reality was she was relieved that he wasn't ditching her…and a little nervous as his words – and the events of earlier – hit home.

Derek glanced at her again. "It would make a difference." He said softly and then caught himself in the act of being…affectionate? He coughed. "Which means that you aren't going anywhere without my say-so."

"So what? You're going to hold me prisoner now? Lock me up in your cellar and feed me a diet of mac 'n' cheese and potato chips till I weigh enough to belly bounce BBG?"

Derek laughed. "You know the idea has merit…"  
Casey ignored the comment. "What about my stuff?"

"I'm going to take you to the safe house and then I'm going to go and check you out of your hotel."

"And pick up my car?"

"Your what?"

"My car. It's in the hotel parking lot."  
"You _drove_ here?"

Casey shrugged. "I needed the thinking time."

Derek sighed. "I guess I'll be getting a cab to the hotel then."

* * *

The "safe house" was not what Casey expected. She had watched her fair share of cop shows and "Law and Order". She had seen "safe houses" before. She predicted a small house, part of a row of dilapidated houses all with crumbling steps, peeling paintwork and inside dirty green walls stained with water, damp and other far worse things.

Because what Derek hadn't told her was that the place he was taking her to was the closest he had ever got to a real post-Venturi home.

It was still dark so all Casey could see of the building Derek had brought her to was it was short - as high-rise blocks went- and that security was evidently considered important by the architects; all the approaches were well lit with plenty of security cameras, and this time a beefy security guard who actually seemed good at his job. He nodded to Derek as they entered, holding hands.

"Evening Derek." He said and Casey jerked her head round and stared. Derek squeezed Casey's hand sharply in warning.

"Morning Frank!" Derek chuckled and leaned close to whisper to him. "This is Casey. She's going to be staying with me for a while, but I don't want anyone to know."

Frank raised an eyebrow. "Sure I can keep it on the LD. You'll need to sign her in as a regular though. Have I been over the procedure with you before?"  
Derek shook his head. "Nah. This is a first."  
Frank reached under his desk and produced the sign-in folder. Derek let go of Casey's hand and put down his holdall so that he could add her name to the approved persons list.

"She's not the ex-wife, I take it?" Frank asked.

Casey felt a chill go down her spine. _What ex-wife?_

Derek shivered. "Ew, no. Don't go there." He said, looking up from the form.  
"She after you again?" Frank grinned.

Derek laughed. "What can I say? Alimony's a bitch and so is she." He reached for his bag and Casey's hand again, stroking her skin with his thumb in an effort to keep her calm so that she didn't blurt questions in front of curious ears.

"Tell me about it!"

"Yours giving you hell?" Derek maintained the conversation.

"Isn't she always?" Frank said, and when Derek started to lead Casey to the elevator, Frank added. "Nice to meet you Casey. Anything you want, just shout down."

Casey smiled weakly.

The door closed on the small compartment and the elevator began its ascent. Casey turned to say something to Derek but he surprised her, pulling her close and lowering his mouth to her neck.

"There's a camera in the elevator too and it has sound." He murmured against her skin. He placed a gentle, very obvious kiss behind her ear and Casey felt the colour rise in her face at his touch. "Wait till we get upstairs."

If the approach and outside of the apartment complex surprised Casey, Derek's actual apartment blew her mind away, (once he'd completed all his security checks and actually let her into it). It was modern but it wasn't rectangular, it was familiar and it was quirky. Nothing about it was predictable.

Sure, like many modern apartments, the flooring was real wood strips, a warm caramel colour throughout. And the open galley kitchen was pale beech with dark marble surfaces and strong statement bar stools at the breakfast bar. But the open plan living room was cosy; the balcony very wide and spacious. The two bedrooms, den and bathrooms branched off the centre of the apartment randomly, separated by lovely modern French doors and each room had a good view.

As far as Casey could see the only problem with the apartment was the lack of furnishings…and it could use a good clean.

"So have you moved in yet?" Casey asked wryly. Derek chuckled and shrugged.

"Believe it or not, this is my oldest and favourite apartment."  
"How many apartments do you have?"

"That I own? One. That I rent…three."

"Three?"

"Yes. I own this one but, the other three…well one you've seen and the other two are last resort options."

"Meaning?"

"I'd rather spend the night on a park bench."

"Which one does your ex-wife live in?" She asked tersely.

"I don't have an ex-wife." Derek stated.

"Wife?"  
"Casey…" Derek chuckled. "It's a cover story. I asked a lot of security questions when I took on this apartment. It made people suspicious, so I made up a rabid ex-wife to explain my need for privacy and security."

"So where do I fit into this? Am I supposed to be your mistress?" She felt her cheeks warm as she said the words, and was revisited by the thoughts of his actions in the elevator: his lips on her skin.

"Something like that." Derek confirmed. "Don't worry. There aren't any cameras in the apartment. Feel free to treat me like normal out from under prying eyes. Only leave the frying pan for the bad guys, okay?"

Casey advanced into the apartment and ran a critical eye over the space.

"It needs dusting." She pointed out.

He rolled his eyes but laughed all the same. There was something about Casey in his make-shift home that he liked. And it was a Casey he recognised from years ago. _"Whirling Dervish" Casey._

"I'm never here." Derek pointed out.  
"Haven't you heard of cleaning staff?"

Derek snorted. "Casey, this is a safe house. I don't trust anyone through the doors except me."  
"And me."

"Yeah…well…I'm still deciding if this is a good idea."

"Moron."

"You're welcome."  
They grinned at each other.

"So this is "home"?" She pondered. It didn't feel like home as such. The lack of furniture stopped that.

"As much as anywhere." Derek admitted.

"Not even a picture?" She queried.

"Of who? I'm a guy without a past!"

"Of _whom_, Derek."

He sighed. "Come on. I want to show you something." He took her hand and pulled her into the kitchen. Once there, he pushed at the side of a kitchen unit and it clicked like the tiles had in his previous apartment. The side opened like a door revealing another safe. Derek typed in a number.

"What's the combination?"  
"You want the truth or the lies?" He asked with a grin.

"The truth, asshole."  
"Your birthday." Derek said. "I figured it was the last number anyone would expect me to have."

"Huh! Like you even remember my birthday!"

"I remember your birthday. I may have pretended otherwise because it made Nora and Lizzie happy to remind me but…"  
Casey groaned. "Nothing is ever straight forward with you, is it?"

"I try not to be predictable."  
"Your unpredictability is predictable, Derek."  
"Your disdain at my predictable unpredictability is predictable."

"'Disdain'? Since when did you know big words like that?"

"Honey, I have a vastly extended vocabulary these days…mainly because you enjoyed ramming big words down my throat."

"Glad I could help." She said wryly.

Derek smirked and reaching into the safe pulled out a leather picture frame of the sort which folds out with space for three pictures.

"When Spike had finished breaking the bad news to me about my life, he gave me a bag full of stuff that his guys had "liberated" from my bedroom at home. There were things like my passport, a few clothing items and a copy of my hard drive. Most of the stuff I just held on to because I didn't know what to do with it, but the hard drive meant I had pictures of all of you. I printed out a couple of shots." He passed the picture frame to Casey who opened the little folder.

Inside as expected were three photographs: A whole family one from Robbie's first birthday, with Casey and Derek smiling broadly even though out of sight they both knew he was pulling her hair and she was standing on his foot. There was a friends' photo with Sam and Ralph, Emily and Casey all piled onto a couch together during a "film night" between college vacations. And finally there was a picture of Casey holding a baby Robbie with Marti looking on.

"I've moved around a lot." Derek said. "But these always come with me."

Casey wondered how he had coped with the loneliness.

* * *

"I'll be back as soon as I can." Derek said a while later. He had showered and changed his clothes for some of the ones in the closet in the bedroom even though it was four am in the morning. Casey tried to feel reassured when she saw him clip the gun back into his holster.

"You'll be careful?" She asked.

"Anyone would think you cared." Derek commented. She threw him a dirty look.

"I'll be fine." Derek relented. "Stop worrying. I'll walk a couple of blocks uptown, catch a cab. Then I'll go to your hotel room and pack. I'll do the automatic checkout thing, take the elevator down to the basement, pick up your car and drive home."

"What if someone is waiting for you?"  
"How would they be? They would have to know of our previous relationship. You haven't been on the scene long enough this time."

They both ignored the irony of his words.

"But…"

"Casey. Chill. Stay here. Wait for me. I'll be home soon." Derek put a hand on her arm.

"What do I do if there's a problem?" She asked practically and there was an uneasy edge to her voice.

Derek sighed and almost said something derogatory but at the last minute realised he probably should answer her question. He went back to the safe and withdrew a small gun. It was low calibre and the chance of it doing much damage was slight. He held it out to her and then when she almost took it from him he pulled the gun back into his chest.

"Whoa! One sec. This is a last resort, Casey. It's not something to blast at errant step-brothers when they let themselves into their own apartment. Check who you are aiming it at before you pull the trigger. If someone else does come, shoot first ask questions later and then run like hell. You remember the details of that guy I mentioned?"

"Manning?" Casey said, accepting the weapon gingerly.

"Yeah. Get out and get to him." Derek straightened and bent to press a kiss against her cheek. "I will be back though so don't panic. I know you can't bear the thought of being parted from me…"

"Yeah, right Mr Ego. You keep telling yourself that."

Derek smirked. "You're the one clinging to me as I try to go out the door." They both looked down to his sleeve which Casey was grasping tightly in a fist. She let go hastily and Derek smiled.

"Relax princess. I got it under control."

By now they had reached the door and Derek had opened it.

"Be careful." Casey said, one last time.

"And you." Derek said, kissing her forehead again which made Casey close her eyes. "See you soon." He murmured.

And yet again, he was gone.

* * *

Casey paced nervously for the first half an hour and then she berated herself and decided to do something practical. She took herself off to the kitchen and opened the cupboard under the sink. It was fairly empty but she did find sponges, washing up liquid, dusters and polish. They looked untouched and she rolled her eyes at Derek's apparent slovenliness.

"Might as well make myself useful." She announced to herself, and turned toward the open plan living room to make a start.

To be honest there wasn't a lot to dust since there was little in the way of furniture. In the living room there was a mantel over a fireplace, some shelves in the alcoves, and a variety of glass door panels and windows. The floor needed a polish but she decided that she would wait until they were in the vicinity of a grocery store to buy a proper soft mop.

In the Master bedroom, there was more in the way of furniture: closet, tables beside the enormous bed and chest of drawers against one of the walls. The bed looked dishevelled as though its occupant had left in a hurry, which was actually true. (The last time Derek had stayed there he had indeed been called into work on the spur of the moment.) Casey shook her head and started searching cupboards again, eventually finding the spare set of bed linen. She immediately pulled the sheets from the bed and began to remake it.

Casey dusted, polished, swept and changed towels as well as bedlinen. She wiped down kitchen surfaces, ran the washing machine and then tentatively opened the oven for inspection. As it was spotless she decided that it had never been used, but the microwave, however, needed attention.

"That figures. He probably lives on TV dinners." She commented to herself, again making a mental note to go with Derek when it came to grocery shopping.

Eventually at nearly six am, she had removed the last remaining speck of dirt and dust.

The place looked immaculate.

Casey was worn out…

…And Derek still wasn't home.

Biting her bottom lip and fingering the small gun nervously, Casey sat on Derek's bed and tried not to panic.

* * *

Derek left Casey rather reluctantly. He was fairly sure that she was safe in his apartment but he was still nervous while she was out of his sight. Casey McDonald had a singular knack of getting into trouble with the least amount of effort and as the cab took him towards Casey's hotel, he thought back to some of the scrapes Casey had been in – the majority had required him to bail her out. Despite his frustration, he smiled.

It was 4.20am when he arrived at Casey's hotel. The main entrance was closed, but there was a side entrance with a key slot where hotel residents could let themselves in using their own room keys. Derek appreciated this because it saved awkward questions from the hotel staff. He let himself in and took the elevator to Casey's floor.

As he stepped out of the elevator, he was slightly cautious. It really would have to be a major co-incidence for anyone to make the connection between him and Casey after just two hours. He didn't relax though. Relaxing on neutral territory like this would be a mistake because co-incidences do happen. He walked the short distance down the thickly carpeted corridor and arrived at Casey's room.

If this had been Derek's room, he would have done the old "hair on the door frame trick" before he had left earlier. Derek didn't hold with James Bond techniques but sometimes, if he was in the mood, he would try things like slipping paper between the door and its frame. Of course five times out of ten the paper fell by force of gravity alone, and he was unnecessarily spooked. So it was more in the nature of a game, because Derek had just got used to entering any unfamiliar territory cautiously. Then he was never disappointed.

What he _was_ sure of as soon as he opened the door was Casey's room hadn't been touched since she left.

That she had left in a hurry was obvious. The bedclothes were thrown back in such an

untidy way he wondered if she was currently fretting about the impression she had left behind. Casey could be such a perfectionist, he reminded himself, affectionately. Derek pulled the sheets straight and passed an ironing hand across them so that the bed looked more presentable – and then he laughed at himself.

Once the bed was straight, Derek found her suitcase and placed it on the comforter. He moved to the closet and started removing clothes from hangers. He was careful as he lightly folded her skirts and tops in to the case, but he was also quick. Soon the closet was empty and he turned his attention to the chest of drawers. Jeans and t-shirts were easy to pack; Casey's lacy bras and panties less so. Derek's eyes widened at some of the items his "sibling" considered as underclothing. They were vastly different from the delicate cotton and lace smalls that Nora had encouraged and which Derek had occasionally glimpsed in the laundry as teenagers. _These_ all lace objects were provocative to the right eyes which Derek convinced himself he was not.

He resorted to just scooping up the pile of lace and dumping it in the suitcase, but when he turned to the drawer to check for further contents, he froze.

Lying in the bottom of the drawer was a picture frame, small, delicate and silver and when he turned it over to see the picture, his heart nearly stopped.

Nearly nine years ago when they took off for college, Nora and George had insisted that Derek and Casey had some pictures taken to be framed and displayed in the living room at home. They had spent an hour in a portrait studio with their parents (Robbie in arms) on the side lines supervising – or rather refereeing.

The result had been a collection of rather forced pictures of two people who wouldn't choose to spend time together, being required to spend time together.

When Nora and George had been forced to leave because Robbie was playing up, Casey and Derek had been left to their own devices and _this_ picture had been taken. Derek remembered the picture as he remembered the short quiet conversation before hand; where Casey told him she was scared to grow up and Derek had told her to quit being a girl because it wasn't only about her, there were two college kids in the family and she shouldn't forget it. Casey had started to grow indignant at his comment until she had looked into his eyes, and that infuriating Venturi charm had won the day – again.

He meant they would do the college thing _together._

In the picture, Derek was calm, composed, and confident. He sat like a king on his throne with Casey below him. She sat at his feet like a child and her head was turned towards him questioningly while he grinned down at her. It could have been seen as Derek dominant, and Casey weak. But his hands rested on her shoulders, his fingers linked with hers and when the photographer had given them a preview of it on his laptop, Derek had paid the guy not to show their parents…because the picture said only one thing…love.

Derek had assumed the guy had destroyed the picture (after taking the copy for Derek that still rested in his safe.) Evidently, money had changed hands between him and Casey too. Derek admired the enterprising bastard!

He picked up the picture carefully and placed it on top of the pile of lace in Casey's suitcase, and then checked the remaining drawers. Finally, when he was sure he had cleared the bedroom of paperbacks, night clocks, contraceptive pill (!), purse and shoes he made his way into the bathroom and collected her toiletries.

At last, everything was once again contained within her single suitcase, its matching vanity case and medical bag, as well as Casey's purse. To avoid looking like he was stealing, Derek placed the purse inside the suitcase, but not before he retrieved the set of keys for Casey's car.

Derek checked his pocket for the piece of paper on which Casey had jotted her car registration and after scanning the rest of the room for anything he had missed, he grabbed the various bags and made his way to the door.

Checking out had been easy. He had used the television-based automatic check out.

Within minutes, Derek was riding down in the elevator to the basement garage carrying Casey's bags. He relaxed slightly sensing that he was on the homeward stretch.

The garage was pretty standard. A large open plan space made of concrete, well lit in some places, badly lit in others. Typically, Casey's car was in a badly lit area, but Derek couldn't blame her for that since the car had been parked by a valet. The space was at about half capacity but he still found it easy to find the car. It was a typical safe mid-range car and she had chosen a shade of blue that he was sure she had worn on her eyelids as a teenager. Derek popped the trunk as he walked towards the vehicle and when he reached the appropriate end, he slung the bags into the trunk and shut it down.

"Going somewhere?" A voice asked from the shadows.


	26. Bad Dreams

"_Going somewhere?" A voice asked from the shadows._

Derek turned slowly. "Do you have any idea how close you came to sporting a bullet in that ugly mutt of yours, boss?"

Spike stepped from the shadows, his hands in his pockets against the coolness of the air, even below ground level.

"I have the deepest faith in your abilities, Derek. I wouldn't have crept up on you if I thought you couldn't recognise my voice. You aren't reckless."  
"You have a greater faith in me than I do in myself." Derek muttered. Spike looked sympathetic as he correctly interpreted Derek's annoyance at himself.

"Come on Derek, this is Casey we're talking about. She'd have worked her way into this mess one way or another…once you made the decision to contact her."

Derek looked away. "I made that decision though, like I said…" but he didn't finish.

"Is she safe?" Spike asked to fill an awkward silence.

"For now. She's in a safe place."

Spike looked uneasy. "A safe _house_? Derek, the department is compromised. I'm not sure the safe houses are safe anymore."  
Derek turned back to his boss. "Then it's a very good thing that I didn't put her in one of the safe houses you know about, isn't it?"  
Spike looked stunned. "You have more?"

Derek gave him a pointed look. Spike nodded.

"No. You are right. I don't need to know. Let's keep it that way. I'm impressed that you managed to do that without it appearing on my radar, though."

His sub-ordinate smirked. "Not the all-seeing bastard you thought you were, are you?"

"Fuck off." Spike said with good-humour. Then he glanced around. "We're a bit exposed here and we need to talk."

Derek jerked his head towards Casey's car. "Your chariot awaits." He said, pressing the door release which had rearmed itself in the time since he closed the trunk. He held open the rear door. Spike pulled his heavy dark coat tight to his body and paused as he climbed in.

"Relegating me to the back seat, Derek? I don't have the equipment."

Derek snorted. "Believe me, lard ass. You don't do it for me. However, if we are spotted in this car together it could put Casey in danger. You get the back seat in _my_ cab." He slammed the door shut after his mentor and opened the driver's door.

"A little slow for you, D." Spike commented, glancing around at the interior of Casey's "safe mobile". Derek shrugged as he pulled out of the garage.

"If I had my way, we'd be leaving this heap of shit here. However, Casey insisted I reclaimed it and…"  
"…and she's already got you wrapped around her finger."

"Yeah well, not seeing a single family member for seven years kind of makes you appreciate them, even if it is Casey."

"Even if?" Spike asked wryly. "Or especially when…?"

Derek said nothing. Spike softened his tone.

"Nothing's changed then? Even after seven years?"

Derek jerked his head round to look at his boss.

"Meaning?"

"Derek, she was all you talked about then too. You talked about George and Nora and the other kids, but with Casey…you were so worried about who was going to look after her if you went into witness protection. You kept mumbling stuff about handsy football players and smarmy Psychology majors."

Derek grunted and Spike chuckled.

"It comes to us all…I remember when I met Mrs Spike…"  
"You're _married_?" Derek gasped. Seven years of knowing this guy and he had had no idea.

"Yeah. Twenty years come April."

"Wow! So how come this isn't common knowledge?"  
"Jesus! Derek! The woman's gorgeous and a saint and you lot are largely blue-balling morons. Do you think I'm stupid?"

"Not all of us are blue-balling morons. Rich is married. He has a daughter."  
Rich was Spike's second-in-command.

Spike laughed. "So you count yourself amongst the blue-balling majority?"  
Derek snorted. "Don't be ridiculous!"

"When was the last time, Derek?"

"Seriously? You risked all our lives meeting me to ask when I last got laid?"

"No. But I'm curious. I assume it wasn't Casey since even you don't work that fast."  
"No it wasn't Casey. And no it wasn't recent." Derek sighed. "It's been a while. Even the ones who are willing to _share_ without strings always have strings attached. And they don't understand when I won't tell them anything about me."

"And the fact that you are interested in someone else doesn't help."

Derek didn't answer.

He drove them silently to a vacant lot on the outskirts of town and parked up. Then he turned in his seat.

"Let's get on to the important things." Derek said. "What's going on?"

"I was kind of hoping you could tell me that."  
"Jazz hasn't said anything?"

"No. Jazz is being kept out of it by the doctors."

"Yeah. Casey said that was the plan." Derek replied absentmindedly.

"Casey?"  
"She read his notes and told me the possible treatment and prognosis."  
"Shit! I forgot she was a doctor. How the hell did you get her in there without the protection detail knowing?"  
Derek grinned. "Casey's resourceful." He said and his voice held a note of pride.

"So you know the extent of his injuries."  
"Yeah. But all things considered he came off lightly."  
"I guess. Anyway, until he comes round we don't know much more than what he told you…which was?"

Derek shrugged. "He said he made the connection on the girl in the café. He said he knew who she was and it was big. Then he asked me to pick him up at the club so that he could tell me all. He said what he had found out would blow the department apart. Then he broke off. I got over there as soon as I heard the shot. Jazz was lying in the alley not moving. He came round briefly and told me to look in his pocket. I found a piece of paper on him that I never got to look at. Jazz told me there was definitely a leak in the department and then passed out again. Before I could move I got kicked in the ribs."

Spike whistled and Derek went on.

"While I was down, my piece was stolen and so was the paper Jazz gave me. I heard the ambulance arriving and decided in view of what Jazz has said, it was safer for me to go see Casey for help than to go to hospital. Casey patched me up and looked after me till I was back on my feet."  
"Are you okay now?"  
"Still a little sore in places but…yeah."

"And then you left her again?"

"I had to. I didn't even have a gun to protect us. Unfortunately, Casey followed me. She interrupted them trying to whisk me off to see Mr Ego and managed to knock BBG out."

"BB who?"  
"BBG. This big black dude who was trying to persuade me to go with him. Casey hit him over the head with a large frying pan."

"Fucking A, Derek. And you're in love with the woman?"

"Less of the four-letter words, asshole."  
"What, "fuck"?"

"No… "love"."

Spike laughed. "So what's the plan?"  
Derek rubbed at his eyes. "I don't know. To be honest the last few hours have been all adrenaline and no down time. I need some sleep."  
Spike nodded.

"One thing I am sure of though." Derek continued. "It wasn't a coincidence that Jazz was in that alley. That club has something to do with all this."

Spike murmured his agreement. "I looked into it but it's a front. The premises are rented by a holding company which is in turn run by another holding company. The liquor licence is in the name of one "R Porter" but he checks out as a model citizen."  
Derek snorted. "They wouldn't have anyone dodgy!"

"I'm letting you lead this. What's your next move?"  
"My next move is to go home to bed. It's 5.30am. I've been up for twenty hours straight. The club is closed today and tonight, but tomorrow, when I've had a decent amount of sleep I'm going to go and check it out."  
"During the day? It'll be locked up tighter than a nun's panty drawer." Spike pointed out.

"No. Actually I'm going to go back at night…as a paying customer."

"Good idea. You can lose yourself in the crowds – see if you recognise anyone. And a night on the tiles would do you some good. Maybe you could cure your blue balls at the same time."

"Like Casey would let me get away with that."

Spike smiled but said nothing. Derek scowled at him anyway.

It was starting to get light by the time Derek dropped Spike off. They picked somewhere unconnected to either of them and parted with Spike promising to email Derek if he found anything, and Derek promising he wouldn't get suddenly trigger happy if he did find the guy that had killed Grubby and injured Jazz. Spike also made Derek promise to keep an eye on Casey.

Derek drove away from his boss, watching the road ahead and the big guy in his mirror. "Seriously, chief. You think I need you to tell me that?" He muttered as his foot hit the gas.

* * *

"You look like you're holing up for a while." Frank greeted Derek when he arrived back home. As well as Casey's bags which he was somehow managing to balance on one side, Derek was carrying two large bags of groceries in handled carriers. Thank god for all night grocers.

Derek grinned.

"Can you blame me?" He asked, turning his eyes towards the ceiling meaningfully.

"No. Does she have a sister?" Frank asked.

"Nah. Only child. She gets lonely." Derek lied smoothly. "Frank can you do me a favour and add her licence plate to the approved list. I've put her car in my second space."

"Sure." Derek recited the plate and jerked his head towards the elevator.

"Any problems?" he asked. Frank shook his head.

"Nah. It's quiet this morning. She's probably gone to bed."

"Maybe. We've been up most of the night." Derek agreed and then smirked. "I guess I'll go join her."

As he rode in the elevator with the bags at his feet he realised that his last statement probably hadn't been a lie. Sleeping next to Casey was becoming the norm.

Arriving outside his apartment, Derek had to put down the bags to find his key, but eventually, he managed to get all the bags inside the apartment. He closed and locked the door behind him with relief. For now at least, he was safe.

The apartment was quiet and smelled unusually fresh - that made him frown. He wondered where Casey was and what she had been doing in his absence. Knowing Casey, it probably had something to do with cleaning or sticking her nose into his business. He smiled and set off in search of her, taking the groceries with him.

The open plan living room-cum-kitchen was empty, so he quickly placed the perishable food items in the fridge and headed for the bedroom. As that involved once again passing the front door, he collected Casey's bags and trying not to make too much noise, he pushed his way into his bedroom.

Casey was curled up on the bed, quietly sleeping. She was still dressed in her pyjamas from earlier in the night, the light was on, and the small gun he had left her was lying on the bedside table. Derek put her bags down and crossed the room to the bed. He stood and watched her for a few moments.

She looked innocent and she looked young. Derek reminded himself that, the last few days aside, he wasn't used to seeing Casey asleep even seven years ago when they last lived under the same roof. It was evidently when she was at her most innocent, at her most youthful. It was also when she was at her most beautiful, because her face held none of the irritation it usually did when facing Derek.

It wasn't that she was permanently angry with him when she was awake, but there were always signs of tension when she looked at him.

There were no lines of anger creasing her forehead now and her lips were soft and curved in a smile. Clearly she was dreaming of something pleasant and Derek felt a wave of curiosity as to what it was.

He leaned forward and pulled the comforter from under her so that he could cover up her sleeping form. He tried to do it gently and without waking Casey but she opened her eyes and looked groggily at him. "Derek?"  
He nodded and was about to comment on her sleepiness when she threw her arms around his neck and suddenly kissed him on the mouth. It was the same chaste, hard kiss that she had greeted him with those few short days ago when they had seen each other for the first time in seven years.

And it made Derek frown as he caught her by her waist.

Casey, jerked into awareness by his movements, opened her eyes in time to notice the scowl. She pulled away but Derek only let her get so far before his hands restrained her hips.

"You surprised me." He explained. She relaxed slightly. "Erm, Casey? Just so I know. Is this kissing me every time I walk through the door thing going to be the norm around here?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry." She murmured, looking anywhere but at him. "I just…"

Derek placed a finger under her chin to lift her face to his. "Don't be, Princess." He said softly. "I'm not complaining." And he pressed his lips to hers softly, but every bit as chastely as her kiss.

Stunned, Casey didn't move, which made Derek chuckle. He combed his fingers into her long hair as he released her mouth and they stared at each other.

"Where were you?" Casey asked after a lost moment, her fingers grasping the sides of his t-shirt absent-mindedly. "You were gone so long."  
"Spike was waiting for me in the hotel garage." He explained. "He wanted to swap notes."  
Casey frowned, and Derek reached out to smooth the crease on her forehead without thinking.

"How did he know you'd be there?" She asked as his fingers stroked from her temple down to her jaw.

"He's been casually monitoring the family's whereabouts since I died - for your safety. When you decided to come to Ottawa on vacation he started paying more attention. Then I disappeared after the attack on Jazz…he put two and two together." Derek wasn't about to tell her that their Facebook and email communications had been monitored. Some of the things they had shared had been too personal for Casey to know that his boss had read them. Things like the conversation they had had at the party that night – or the fact she was falling for his alter ego.

Casey looked panicked but Derek kissed her forehead.

"It's okay. Spike plays everything close to his chest. The only people who know about you are him and me."  
"How can you be sure?"  
Derek dropped his hands. "Casey, if he wasn't trustworthy after seven years of keeping my secrets, I'd never be able to trust anyone…" He lowered his glance to her. "…including you."

"I'm sorry. You wanted so badly to keep me out of this." Casey let her fingers play with his shirt again. Her voice was sad and Derek frowned and pulled away. "Reality has hit home then, I guess." He sounded a little sad that she regretted her actions. Sure he wanted her safe, but he would be lying if he said a part of him wasn't grateful for her tenacity at remaining in his life. If she wanted out now…

"Reality yes…I get what you were saying. But I'm not going anywhere, Derek. I owe it to the family to make sure that you stay alive this time. And I owe it to our relationship."

"Our what?" His jaw dropped. Casey chuckled.

"I mean I didn't desert you when you were being bullied. I'm not deserting you now."

"There's a big difference between those two, honey."

"Really? Not from where I'm standing."  
"This could get you killed."  
"So could crossing the street." Casey stood up and walked over to her suitcase. She opened it, saw that her purse was inside and noted the vanity case and medical bag. "Great! You got everything."

"You're insane!"

She paused in the act of walking to the en-suite with the vanity case. "Sometimes you sound like a stuck record, Venturi. Tell me, if the roles were reversed, where would you be right now?"  
"Sunning myself on a beach somewhere vowing never to vacation in Ottawa." He lied. If the roles were reversed he'd be wherever Casey was…and she wouldn't have died in the first place.

Casey snorted. "Yeah right." She retorted and flounced into the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Derek flung himself backwards onto his newly-made bed. Then he stared up at the ceiling and said a four-letter word…

And it wasn't "fuck".

* * *

It was dark. Only the streetlights below and the moonlight lit the living room. There was nothing on the balcony, so nothing could cast a shadow, and the same was true inside the apartment. Casey stood watching the light beams bounce against Fawn-coloured walls; the monochrome tones of night leeching the coloured tones of day from the décor. She couldn't see the thermostat but she didn't need it to know that the heating wasn't on. It was early in the year. The cold outside was piercing, biting. There hadn't been ice storms like previous years yet it was deathly cold all the same.

But it was nothing to the atmosphere inside. The temperature gauge would say something like 10 degrees Celsius in the apartment. But the reality was an unearthly coolness; one that Casey had only ever encountered in a morgue before, where the atmosphere was a more successful coolant than the air con.

She moved through Derek's apartment searching for something, though she couldn't remember what. That she didn't find it was obvious. How can you find something in an apartment that is _empty_? But still she looked. She left the living room and the empty balcony beyond, instead passing the kitchen and searching the enclosed rooms: a den, two bedrooms, two bathrooms; a corridor with many doors that she struggled to identify but she tried them just the same.

From the corner of her eye she saw a flickering movement and she spun to look at it. Immediately, it appeared at the other side of the room, wavered and then flickered out - and her frustration grew. The doors were locked; the rooms were empty. And the illusive _something_ was gone.

Why was he _doing_ this? Why must it always be a game with Derek? Why couldn't he just stand still? Because evidently it was _him_ she was searching for. Why did he have to toy with her? Cold and angry one minute and then warm and tender the next. Why was it that every time he came through the door marked 'In', his eyes were on the door marked 'Out'. Why couldn't he just stay?

She found herself in the hallway of the apartment, the front door to her right, the pegs for hanging coats and bags empty like everything else. How could he live in this place? What kind of soul-less life was this? Devoid of heat, devoid of light, devoid of colour…devoid of life.

Casey looked up and frowned as she saw the bedroom door suddenly in front of her. This time it was ajar because he was playing games again. Casey pushed against the door and held her breath as it swung open revealing Derek lying on his bed, grinning as he held back the bed covers.

He was naked.

"Come on. Get in. You want to. We both know you want to. You want this. You want me. You always have. You always will and I'm not fussy. You know I'll sleep with anyone…even Kendra. She was pretty good if you kept calling her stupid pet names. And Amy? She was a screamer. With Sally it was dirty talk…and Emily…She almost broke my dick…"

Casey squealed and raised her hands to her ears but the voice kept on in her mind. Derek listing all the women he had slept with and all the kinks each one had enjoyed.

"So what will you be, Casey? A screamer? Or maybe dirty talk? Or maybe you'll be the one who likes it up the…"

"STOP!" Casey shouted closing her ears and her eyes.

When she opened them, Derek _had_ frozen. His mouth was open as if to continue his speech but there was no movement, not even the rise and fall of his chest.

And then she watched in horror as his colour bled out through a wound in his head, and his skin began to pale like someone had waved a magic wand across it or the way a television reacts to a strong magnet passed across its screen.

The colour drain didn't stop at the normal stony colour of post mortem. His skin paled to that of grey quarry chalk and then, like a cliff collapsing against the eroding tide of a stormy sea, the features that made up Derek's face began to crumble in on themselves. She watched transfixed as his eyes sunk and disintegrated and holes began to appear in his cheeks. Casey screamed…

…and sat up in her bed.

For a moment she was relieved, glad that a nightmare was over. She smiled to herself at the familiar pictures on the wall, the dresser in the corner with her pictures of her family, and pulled the purple comforter that had been a present from Marti close. She was safe in her bed.

In her apartment. She paused…horror gripping her again.

Now it was Casey who froze.

Her apartment…in London. Not Derek's empty apartment in Ottawa. She was at home in bed in her own apartment. She glanced at her bedside clock and the digital figures seemed to loom large as they proclaimed not only the time, but also the date.

The day before Derek's anniversary.

Casey felt her own body shutdown the way that Derek's had in her dream. She wondered if she was the sickening colour of grey-white that he had been before the crumbling started. And she wondered when her turn to disintegrate would come.

It was a dream: Mikey, Derek, Ottawa...even Derek's kisses had been a dream. She lay back down in her bed, curled herself into a ball and wept.

* * *

The weeping became wailing, deep body-wracking cries and the grief hit her like a sledgehammer. It shook her really hard and she felt pressure all around her as though the world was crushing her body.

Casey cried out in a voice distorted by sobs and the fact that lying on her side meant half of her mouth was pressed into the pillow.

"Why are you doing this to me? Is this the punishment I get for thinking about Derek that way?"

"I don't know." A voice replied. "You tell me how you were thinking about Derek, and I'll tell you if the punishment fits."

_This_ voice was coloured with warm amusement. It was located in the vicinity of her left shoulder and she wondered if she had sprouted a little devil-Casey to whisper nefarious plans in her ear; or maybe a little devil-Derek.

The pressure on her increased and she felt suddenly warmer from the crushing force at her chest down to the weight on her legs. A warm breeze brought more whispered suggestions to her left ear.

"Who are the tears for? Tell me and I'll kill the bastard."

Casey dipped her head and wiped soaked cheeks against the cheap poly-cotton of the comforter. It was thin and didn't smell as nice as the quality cotton she always bought, but that was because it hadn't been washed in the softener that Casey used. She would have to…

Casey stopped. She didn't own any cheap poly-cotton. And the tight pressure at her chest wasn't the weight of her grief. It was a strong, quite muscular arm, wrapped tightly around her.

The increased warmth she had felt was a body pressed down the length of her back and legs, and the restraining force which held her hand was another, larger hand, its fingers linked in her own as they splayed across her stomach.

Half afraid that it would all disappear, Casey turned her head to look behind her and opened her eyes.

"Bad dream?" Derek asked his eyes warm and sparkling from the half-light in his bedroom as his face loomed over her own. It was daylight outside and evidently despite the season the sun was shining today. It cast beams of light through the wooden blinds at the windows. The sunbeams danced on the comforter, and the single conjoined lump that their bodies made.

Casey didn't speak. There were wet tear tracks leading from both her eyes again, and Derek could feel her body shaking in his arms. Still wordlessly, Casey raised her spare hand and pinched him hard on the arm.

"Ow! What was that for?" He asked.

"I had a dream within a dream. I'm making sure you're real." Casey replied.

Derek leaned back and let go of her to rub at the sore spot she had created.

"Great! Believe it now? Or should I return the favour?" Derek sounded peeved, but she could tell he was still in a good mood.

"You don't need to pinch me back. I was just making sure you weren't going to crumble in front of me."  
"I'd never crumble in front of you, princess."  
"You did in my dream. You turned to dust."  
"What like in Harry Potter?"

Comprehension dawned on Casey. "So _that's _where I got it from. I watched the first film with Marti shortly before I came on vacation. It must have been my subconscious."

"And what else has your subconscious been feeding you?" Derek asked.

Casey told him about the dream within a dream. It took a few moments, but afterwards he just stared at her.

"Let me get this straight…you dreamt about me _naked_?"

Casey coughed. "Technically…"

Derek rolled away from her and laughed a deep belly laugh.

"Was it an accurate dream?" Derek asked. "I mean you _have_ seen the goods up close when you were "checking for injuries" and…technically…"

"Der-ek!" She failed to hide her own grin as she nodded.

Casey, whilst appreciating the humour of the situation, didn't appreciate the sudden absence of warmth as his body moved away from hers. At least his body was wearing pyjamas in this reality! Derek noticed the crease deepen on her brow.

"I was holding you because you suddenly started screaming and crying in your sleep. I was trying to calm you down before you gave me a black eye.

You need to laugh at the nightmare because that's all it was. It's complete fiction and you've tested it out. I'm alive. Although I'm sure the pinching theory is that you are supposed to pinch yourself and see if _you_ feel the pain."  
He moved closer to her and she turned on her side to face him.

"Quite apart from anything else, I have absolutely no idea whether Kendra requires sweet talk to climax, if Amy is a screamer or if Emily has ever nearly busted someone's balls. I never slept with them."

"And Sally?" Casey didn't want to ask, but she needed to know.

"…was a very special lady who a small part of me will love until I die." He said cryptically.

"Oh." Casey understood. She really did understand because it had sort of been obvious. She knew there was a difference between the way Derek was with Sally than the other girls he had dated.

"She's the past." Derek said. "She's part of my old life."

"So am I."

"Only as much as you are part of my present…and knowing you, you'll fill more of my future, whether I like it or not!"  
Casey reached out to touch his hand. He pulled it back.

"No more pinching." He cautioned.

"I wasn't…"

"Yes…you were. You have this little 'tell'."

"Sorry."  
Derek grinned and moved closer. "You want me to prove that you aren't dreaming?" He asked.

Casey nodded.

"If I do this, you have to promise that you'll never ever call me your brother again. Deal?"  
Casey gave an amused frown. "Deal."

Smirking, Derek leaned closer again, and pressed his lips to hers. His kiss was soft, gentle, but it didn't stay that way. After a second, he deepened it and his hands wrapped around her body again. He closed his mouth as he pulled away and then stole her lips again: small, open kisses; chaste by the standards of some, but not something Casey ever though she would exchange with Derek.

"I'm real. And I'm here." Derek whispered. "Get used to it."


	27. Plans

"What are you doing?" Derek asked, still towelling his hair as he emerged from the bedroom into the kitchen. Casey looked up. She was dressed in a long cream and pink Fair Isle sweater which came to her knees and was pinched in at the waist by a wide brown belt. It hugged her figure in ways that frightened Derek.

Casey had also showered recently (although not at the same time!).

"Brunch. Spanish omelette." She announced with a grin.

"I didn't think I got the ingredients for that." He said knowing he hadn't because he didn't know what the ingredients for Spanish omelette were.  
"We needed decent food, Derek. I went to the grocery store while you were in the bathroom. I thought you'd have wondered where I was but I'd forgotten how long it takes you to preen."  
"It's not preening, Casey."

"Alright. Groom, then."

"Grooming? Do I look like a metro-sexual? You're going to want me to "cleanse, tone, moisturise" next aren't you?" He sing-songed in a silly voice as he sat down at the breakfast bar and helped himself to fresh coffee. "I'm wise to it, sweetheart. Women only want their men to use expensive moisturiser so that they can avoid buying their own gunk."  
Casey started hunting for dinner plates in the myriad of cupboards.

"Derek. You can wear whatever you want on your face it makes no difference to me. The last time I _looked_ there was no "Casey's property" label on your butt."

Casey stopped abruptly as she realised what she had said. She straightened from where she had been reaching up to a cupboard and glanced at Derek who was grinning so widely it nearly split his face apart.

"And when was the last time you "looked at" my butt?" He asked, smirking and with an eyebrow raised.

She shook her head in annoyance. "You know what I mean."

"No I don't. Is this need to look at my ass linked to your voyeuristic tendencies towards my _manhood_?"

"That was different Derek. I'm a doctor. You were hurt."

"Okay, so there's a difference between you staring at my ass and you staring at my _naked_ ass. The one was voyeuristic, the other was professional pride."  
"Exactly…" She stopped as what he had said registered. "…what? No….DER-EK!" Casey blustered.

Derek was openly laughing now. "You're so much fun!" He said.

"You're so annoying."

"Casey. I have very little to do with this word play of ours. It takes no effort. You open your mouth and out it comes. I just stand there and hit the home run."

Casey frowned, switched off the hob and slumped against the work surface.

"What happened to kind, sensitive Derek?" she asked quietly. _What happened to the guy who kissed me in bed this morning?_

Derek, catching the sudden downturn in mood, examined his coffee cup intently. "What happened to "I missed you Derek"?" He asked, equally quietly.

Casey tentatively reached out to stroke her finger on the back of his hand. Derek flipped the hand and caught her finger, sliding along until all his fingers were linked with hers. He squeezed her hand affectionately as they gazed at each other, raised it to his lips to kiss her knuckles and then let the hand drop.

"Now. What the fuck were you doing going to the grocery store on your own?" He asked, suddenly all business.

* * *

The one thing Derek did have in his apartment, apart from his bedroom furniture, was a television – a very large one screwed to the bedroom wall. He also had a DVD player and a small collection of DVDs. After brunch, they went back to the bedroom, because there was no where else to sit, and watched a movie.

"You need furniture." Casey said during a boring bit.

"I'm never here. I probably spend a week here a month."  
"You need a sofa at least."  
"Not when all I do is eat and sleep here."  
"Derek, doesn't it feel at all strange to you that we've spent several days together and the majority of that we were on a bed?"

"Because we were in a hotel."

"We aren't in a hotel now. You don't need a safe house. You need a home. Besides, even safe houses have sofas. You need furniture." Casey was doing that "talking with her hands" thing again.

"Don't nag. I haven't got time to go shopping for furniture."  
"Fine. I'll do it for you. Give me a credit card." She presented her flattened palm to him.

"Casey."

She could hear the waiver in his voice. "I won't go over board I promise…just the essentials."  
"You can't go _out_ furniture shopping, Casey. It's not safe."  
"Okay. I'll do it over the internet. Just give me your laptop."  
"You're going to nag me about this forever aren't you?"  
She beamed at him and he reached for his wallet and handed her his credit card. It was in another different name and when Casey pointed it out, Derek shrugged.

"It's a good thing we go back so far, otherwise I wouldn't be sure who I was sharing a bed with." Casey commented.

"You wanna re-phrase that?"  
"No. It's accurate enough."

Before Derek could retort or think too much about how she was in his apartment, in his bed and now possessed his credit card, Casey's purse started to vibrate on the other side of the room.

"Oh! My cell!" She said, climbing off the bed quickly and running over to the place where she had left the bag.

"Dr McDonald." She answered in a calmer tone which contrasted with the excited Casey who had picked the phone up. The words sounded strange to Derek. He was still living slightly in the past when it came to Casey. He found it hard to reconcile the Casey of his teenage years with Casey the professional.

Not that he objected to the medical profession. There was something particularly attractive about female doctors. He wondered momentarily what she looked like in scrubs and tried to remember if the garments required clothing underneath them or not.

"Hi Smarti!" Casey's face lit up and, at the sound of his little sister's name, Derek immediately turned his attention to the conversation.

On the other end of the phone, Marti was quizzing Casey as to why the hotel was saying she was no longer a resident.

"I'm fine, hun. I just moved out of the hotel for now to save on cost. How are you?" Casey tried to push the subject of her accommodation to one side as she climbed back onto the bed. She leaned back against the headboard and close to Derek so that he could hear Marti's words, knowing what it would mean to him – and also hoping that he would start to see Marti as an adult.

"I'm fine." Marti replied. "The new job is going well, and I'm getting to spend lots of time with my boyfriend Simon."  
"Oh?" Casey checked to see Derek's reaction. He had now paused the DVD and Casey could feel his body tense at the mention of a "Simon".

"Oh yes!" Marti announced cheerfully. "And there have been _developments_ on that front."

Mindful of the conversations Casey and Marti had shared back in London, Casey coughed. "Wow! That's great! You'll…erm…have to fill me in _later_ on all the details."

Marti was confused. Filling Casey in on the details of her almost-activities the previous night was exactly why she was ringing _now_.

"Later?" She queried.

"I'm…erm…not alone right now." Derek flashed her an "annoyed" look.

"Oh. Sure." Marti said cheerfully as she accepted Casey's explanation. "Where are you staying anyway – if you aren't at the hotel?" She went on curiously. There was an excitable tone to Casey's voice that the younger girl couldn't remember the last time she had heard.

"Erm…" Casey didn't know what to say and glanced up at Derek. He rolled his eyes and nodded to her, mouthing "With a friend."

Casey repeated his words.  
"_The_ friend?" Marti asked, suddenly sitting up on the sofa in Casey's apartment.

"Yes. _The_ friend."

"Is he there now?" Marti's hands were beginning to shake in anticipation of Casey's answer. Suddenly Casey's reluctance to listen to Marti's news made sense.

Casey looked at Derek for guidance again.

_Are you here?_ She asked noiselessly.

Derek sighed and looked thoughtful for a moment. Then he motioned for Casey to pass him the phone. Casey's eyes widened and she gave him the cell.

"Hi Smarts."

Marti gasped, Derek chuckled and Casey felt the sting of tears on her cheeks as they all realised what was happening: for the first time in seven years, Marti was hearing the sound of her "dead" brother's voice.

"Smerek?" Marti asked and her voice sounded uncertain and timid again, as though she was scared that the answer would be "no".

Marti sounded nine years old.

"Hey kiddo." Derek replied his voice uncharacteristically thick. "How ya doing?"

Marti burst into tears and Casey wasn't far behind her.

Derek laughed. "Tears! Please! Give me a break!" Casey elbowed him deliberately in his slightly bruised ribs as she fled the room to find tissues.

"Are you okay?" Marti finally managed to ask her favourite "ghost".

"I'm good, honey. How are you?"  
"So much better for hearing you." Marti replied, and he heard her age creeping into her tone. "I've missed you so much!"

"I missed you too."

"So it's all true then?"

"Most of it. I can't say all of it because you know what an exaggerator Casey can be."

Casey was re-entering the room. She narrowed her eyes at him and he smirked.

"De…" Marti stopped herself mid-way through chiding her older brother, aware that Casey had said they couldn't discuss things over the phone. "Are you being good to Casey?"

"Why change the habit of a lifetime?" Derek answered. "We're being our usual selves."  
"Oh god! Why? I thought after seven years you'd appreciate each other."

"We do, Smarts. This is just the way we are. So who is Simon?" Derek cut to the chase.

Marti winced. "My boyfriend."

"I see." And Casey had to hide a smile as Derek started to sound like George. "Boyfriend as in Dimi-type boyfriend, or boyfriend as in I need to come over there with my warrant card and side arm?"

Marti groaned. "Purlease! Dimi was never a boyfriend – he's gay by the way, and Simon is…_perfect!_" She giggled uncharacteristically. Casey gave up trying to hide her amusement as Derek looked at her in disgust.

"You've spent too much time with Spacey." He muttered. Marti laughed down the phone.

"The question is, what are you doing spending so much time with Casey?"  
"Well you know, I keep trying to avoid her, but she sneaks up on me." Derek smirked at Casey who stuck her tongue out at him.

"I bet you don't run that fast." Marti said so quietly Casey couldn't hear.

"No. Not really." Derek confirmed.

They talked on for a few moments before Marti had to go to work on a late shift. They parted reluctantly, but both knew that now they had started talking again, it would continue. It was sort of like the compulsion Derek felt to stay in touch with Casey – or then again – definitely not.

He hung up and handed the phone back to his "roommate". She put it on the bedside table and turned her whole body towards him.

"So that was Marti." He said redundantly.

"That was Marti." Casey confirmed.

"She sounds….the same."

"You have no idea! Thank god she hasn't reached the "grow old disgracefully" stage yet!"

"This "Simon". Have you met him?"  
"Yes. And he's very nice and totally under her thumb, and you really need to let her grow up Derek."  
"There's growing up and there's growing up." He muttered.

"She's tamer than you and I were at that age."  
"I've seen the photos, Casey. That is not tame."

"That's just Marti expressing her individuality through her clothes."

"She looks…weird. Like an art school major."

"She is studying graphic design what do you expect?"

"She'd better not be indulging in the other art school majors!"  
Casey raised an eyebrow. "Which are?"

"You know. The three Ps."  
"No. I don't."

"Patron, Pipe and Porn."

"Derek. You sound like George. She's an adult, she can legally drink and personally, I think, if she's got to nineteen _virgo intacta_ she's already proven she can be responsible. And we both know that Marti is high on life. She doesn't need special seed cake or pipes made from kitchen utensils."

Derek's eyes widened. "And how do you know about pipes made from kitchen utensils?"  
"I spent part of my rotation in a rehab facility. I saw some awful cases." Casey explained and then she smiled. "I also arranged for Lizzie, Edwin and Marti to see some _horrific_ DUI and drug withdrawal cases. Edwin passed out, Lizzie turned green and Marti cried her eyes out. Believe me when I tell you that none of them is going anywhere near a crack pipe in this lifetime."

Derek grinned at her in approval. "Nice work, Mac the …"

"Der-ek!"

* * *

It was easy to sit together on that bed, watching crap television and chatting casually about people they both knew; Easy to forget about the drama of the previous night and the fact that somewhere in the city someone was trying to find them.

That someone had every intention of killing them.

For the moment, Casey had stopped expecting Derek to run. She stopped jumping every time he stood up and she didn't feel rushed every time she needed the bathroom. (Before, she had been tempted to leave the door ajar so that she could monitor the door to the outside world in case he made a break for it. But in the end, embarrassment at Derek seeing her like that took over.)

He didn't leave.

Now that he was back on his home turf – armed and protected – Derek too was more relaxed. The biggest confrontation he had dreaded (but also wanted) for the past seven years had happened. Casey knew he was alive and she didn't hate him for it – at least no more than usual.

They had retrieved something of their past "friendship" – retrieved and built on it. Seven years ago, Derek would not have been able to put an arm around his step-sister the way he currently was. And seven years ago he hadn't known what it felt like to press his lips against hers. He wondered what it meant for the future.

Then he pulled his head out of the clouds and concentrated on trying to figure out how he was going to make sure he _had_ a future.

"What are you thinking about?" Casey asked sensing his distraction.

"Stuff." He said absentmindedly.

"Helpful." Casey commented wryly.

He smirked. "I'm thinking about the past seven years." Derek said. "How things have changed. And I'm thinking about what happens next. We can't stay here. Before long, George and Nora are going to wonder where you are. You'd lose your job because you hadn't turned up at work and if I stayed here, Spike would kill me himself. He needs me to find the department mole."

"So what do we do?" She asked.

Derek snorted at the "we".

"Come on Derek. You don't expect me to sit back and just let you get on with it."

"Yes actually, I do. I'm a trained cop, princess. I don't expect you to let me conduct open heart surgery, so don't expect me to let you loose on the Canadian underworld. Come on, even those poor fuckers don't deserve that."

"Ha ha." Her tone said she was less than amused. "And I can't perform cardiovascular surgery either, Derek. I'm not qualified."

"But you at least know the theory of it. You know _nothing_ about police work."  
"I know more than you think…I saved you."  
"You got lucky with a frying pan, and watching "Due South" re-runs does not mean you understand my job." Derek said in a mock-bored tone.

"I never claimed to. But there are ways I can help without putting myself in danger."  
Derek snorted again. "Danger has a way of leaping up and biting _you_ on the ass."

"I'm not that girl anymore, Derek. I've learnt lessons." Casey was right. She was far more experienced in life than he was giving her credit for. Even so…  
"You could have fooled me! You followed me to my apartment." He protested.

Casey shook her head.

"No. I didn't. I looked at your driving licence. It had the address on it, so I got a cab and gave the address. Technically that isn't following you."  
Derek groaned at his own stupidity at leaving his wallet around, though secretly he was impressed she had used her initiative like that. Impressed but not surprised.

"I'm going to lock my wallet and paperwork away out of your reach."  
"Go ahead, Derek. You might want to change the combination on your safe though. I do remember my own birthday! Look, I've promised you that I won't go anywhere you don't want me to." _Besides, I've already been through your wallet and cell phone._

He looked at her with a degree of suspicion.

"Please?" She asked. "What's the plan? What are you going to do? You need to tell me so that I can raise the alarm if you don't come back."  
He sighed. "Okay. I'm going to wait until tomorrow evening, and then when the nightclub opens, I'm going to go there and take a look around."  
"You're going clubbing?" Casey seemed to grasp the idea faster than Spike had. "They'll never let you behind the scenes. All the important doors will be locked and guarded."

"You'd be surprised."  
"Regardless, you need a look out."  
"What?"  
"You need someone to keep an eye out for trouble while you are sniffing around. I can do that. I could come to the club with you and then while you are poking about, I could watch the staff."

"Casey. The guys from last night will probably be there. What if one of them recognises you?"

"They are more likely to recognise you than me. They've seen you more than once. Besides, there will be hundreds of people there."

"No. Casey." His tone was firm and final.

"And who is going to say "no" to you?" Casey asked.

"It's my job to put myself at risk. I protect and uphold the law."  
"Fine. But I'm coming with you."  
"Come again?"  
"It's my job too Derek. I save lives…part of the Hippocratic Oath remember?"

"That doesn't count. No where in the damn thing does it say "I swear to commit suicide because I'm too stubborn to understand when someone is trying to save my life." Or does it?"  
Casey raised an eyebrow. "And no where in the oaths for the _Mounties_ does it say "I swear to commit suicide because I'm too stubborn to understand when someone is trying to save my life." Or does it?"

He glared at her. "You're a pain in the ass."

"Right back at you, _honey_." She grinned. The smile fell from her lips. "I lost you once, Derek. I won't let you put yourself in unnecessary danger any more than you would let me. If we do this together, maybe we'll both come out of this in one piece."

"Or die trying? I think not."

But despite his words and the vehemence of his objection, Derek knew he would be taking Casey clubbing the next evening. Because he also knew if he didn't, she get there under her own steam.

One way or another.


	28. Hot Sweaty Bodies

Casey woke next to Derek again the following morning. There really was nowhere else in the apartment to sleep. Not that she was complaining and not that she planned to put a second bed on the To- Buy list for furniture any time soon. She had dreamed about this all being unreal again during the night and whilst her sobbing hadn't woken Derek, being able to roll close to him in the bed definitely helped the almost physical pain left by the dream.

She lay there for a while relishing the sight of the rise and fall of his chest, and the sound of every tiny snore. It wasn't like Derek to snore she had discovered over the past few days (unless he was feigning sleep). She was positive he was asleep now though, maybe he was getting a cold.

After several minutes of illicit Derek-watching, Casey slipped from their bed and grabbing her robe, made her way into the kitchen. The morning was just beginning to emerge through the slatted blinds so she made herself a pot of coffee, poured a mug and then perched on one of the bar stools with Derek's laptop in front of her. She was going to buy furniture.

Casey had been upset by his constant refusal to let her in on his professional career even though she knew his concern was about her safety. Quite frankly, he was treating her as Cheerleader Casey rather than someone who had lived in the world a bit since she dated Max and Truman. She hated how he refused to acknowledge that she could bring anything but hindrance.

At least, however, he had eventually agreed to her going with him to the club tonight, even if it was purely because he knew she would go anyway with or without his permission – and he wanted to keep an eye on her.

Casey was slightly confused by the whole Derek-Casey thing, and the only thing that stopped her confronting Derek about it was because she was sure he was equally confused. Something had definitely changed between them since their reunion. Sure she had acknowledged that she had missed him, and to herself at least she had admitted that there was more than just filial affection there. She had kissed him and let him kiss her after all!

But, just what exactly did all the extra touching mean? The hand holding, the one-arm cuddles, the stroking of fingers on backs of hands, cheeks and necks. Casey's own neck reddened in a blush as she reminded herself they had had seven very long and painful years apart and they had missed each other. All they were doing was making up for seven years of lost touches. At the end of a ridiculously long "day", he was still her step-brother…despite his request for her to never use the B word. It certainly didn't mean they were dating and just because he had kissed her didn't mean that he even _wanted_ to date her.

Did it?

She sighed and in an effort to think about something else, Casey dialled Marti.

"You're up early!" Marti pointed out cheerily when she answered. Yesterday, she had told Casey she would be at home and awake this morning. It sounded as though Casey's little sister hadn't yet been to bed.

"I get up early most mornings." Casey reminded her.

"Not when you're on vacation."

"I haven't been on vacation before so how would you know?"

"Is_ he_ up?"  
"Don't be ridiculous, Marti. It's before eight am, he's snoring away. Or at least he was when I left him."

Marti's eyes widened. "Meaning? Casey…? Are you sleeping with him?"  
Casey groaned. "I don't have any choice. There's only one bed. In fact there's hardly any furniture in the apartment at all. Typical man!"

Marti giggled. "Let me guess. The kitchen is well-equipped but only the microwave has been used, there's a bed in the bedroom plus somewhere to hang his stuff, and a very large television on the bedroom wall. I.e. Food, sleep, TV."

"Like I said, "typical man"!"

They both giggled.

"He's letting me order furniture though." Casey mused. "I managed to talk him into handing over his credit card. That's what I'm doing now while I'm on the phone to you."

"What are you ordering?"

"Sofa suite, dining table, television for the living room, deck furniture for the balcony and a desk and chair for the den."

"Sofa bed?"

"Probably not."

"What about when he has visitors?"

Casey was about to say "what visitors?" when she realised that Marti was probably harbouring some hopes about seeing Derek at some point soon. Casey was fairly sure that wasn't going to happen but she didn't see why she should be the one to break it to Derek's youngest sibling.

"There's a spare bedroom." Casey explained.

"Why aren't you in there?" Marti quizzed with amusement.

"Like I said, there isn't a bed."

"Have you ordered one?"

"Not exactly." Casey said. Ordering a bed would mean there would be no reason for her to continue her current sleeping arrangements and she wasn't sure that she was ready to give them up just yet. "I'll put that in phase two." She muttered. Marti grinned to herself. Clearly Casey wasn't as anti bed-sharing as you might imagine.

"Anyway," Casey continued, changing the subject. "What about these "developments"?"

Marti squeed like a six year old at Christmas.

"Oh yes!" She exclaimed. "Well we're not exactly _there_ yet but…ooo Casey. Things are hotting up!"

Casey rolled her eyes. "Do I even want to know?"  
"His fingers…my god that guy has talent!"

"Smarti…" Casey winced.  
"And I…did some stuff…" Casey's eyes almost popped out of their sockets and her ears began to burn.

"Marti!"

"And…erm…Casey he's _enormous_. When _it _finally happens, I don't think it is going to fit!"

Casey coughed and shifted uncomfortably on the chair. This sort of conversation was definitely easier after a glass of wine, but it wasn't even breakfast time yet.

"It'll fit, Marti. Trust me. Not fitting is a physiological impossibility. Thank god you didn't share details like that when "Mikey" was listening!"

"Oh god! Can you imagine"

"He'd have been on the next flight home. Regardless of the risk."  
They giggled a little.

"Did he treat you well?" Casey asked when the laughter died down.

"It was a little irritating actually."

"Oh?"

"He was so nervous, he kept stopping to check I was comfortable with what he was doing and you know some times the last thing you want them to do is _stop_!"

Casey murmured an affirmative sound but she really had no idea. She had been so drunk everything about _that_ night was really hazy. She envied Marti the fact that her partner was so considerate. Whilst Casey's first and only sexual experience had been with a guy who she hadn't known and he hadn't hurt her (above the normal), Marti's first experience was with someone who loved her, which was definitely something to envy.

They talked on for a while, some times serious, some times giggling. Casey explained a little more about how she came to be living with Derek – although there were no specifics or names mentioned. Marti understood, but she also cautioned Casey about the transient nature of the arrangement; something which Casey was all too aware of.

After about twenty minutes of talking, Casey took a deep breath and raised the real reason why she had phoned Marti this morning.

"Smarti. I need your help with something very serious." And then she went on to explain.

* * *

Derek found Casey pacing his living room in a very technical way. She would start at one end, place one foot in front of the other with great accuracy and make her way across to the other side of the room.

"What are you doin'?" Derek asked in one of his "I will never understand Casey in a million years" tones of voice.

"I'm measuring your living room to see if the suite will fit." She replied without looking up.

"Which suite?"

"The one I'm in the middle of ordering." Casey nodded towards the laptop on the kitchen counter.

Derek crossed to the breakfast bar and took a look. On the screen was a furniture website with a large picture of a sofa suite in the centre of the screen. The suite was chocolate brown leather and consisted of a modern corner unit sofa and a large armchair recliner. He thought about objecting to her choice just for the hell of it, but knew better than to put doubts into Casey's head when she was making decisions. He liked the suite she had picked. If he cast doubt on her decision he could end up with a leather suite the colour of a British postal box – fire truck red.

"Okay." He said without expression.

Casey stopped and looked up. "What does that mean?" She asked nervously. "Don't you like it?"

"It's fine."

"What do you mean "fine"?" She looked panicked and ran her hand through her hair. "Should I have gone for more traditional? You know…a cream leather in separate units?"

"Units?"

"Sofas…more than one."  
"Casey, this one will do."  
"But that's not what I'm going for. I don't want "will do". I'm going for the "wow" factor."  
"Then "wow". It's nice." He said deadpan.

Casey groaned. "I can't win with you, can I?" She sounded frustrated.

"Funny, because I was just thinking the same thing about you." Derek replied with a smirk and gave up trying to understand his beautiful co-habitee to make a fresh pot of coffee. "Why don't you take a break and come and discuss The Suite Life with Derek over a coffee? You can explain what you are doing to my apartment."

Casey's shoulders slumped as she crossed to the breakfast bar.

"You know what I'm doing." She told him, perching on the stool next to his own. "I'm trying to arrange for us to have somewhere to sit _other_ than on your bed or on a bar stool."

Derek smiled at her defensiveness. "Casey, chill. I know. I just thought you could let me in on the decisions. Maybe give me some options. It won't feel like a home unless I get some say on where I park my butt."

She glanced up in surprise.

"I thought you were resistant to the idea."  
Derek sipped his coffee. "Nah. You're right. It would be nice to watch the hockey game in a little _less_ comfort. If I watch it on _our_ bed I tend to fall asleep." He admitted. "Does that make me sound old?"  
"You are old Derek." She grinned, slipping easily into an old argument.  
"I'm the same age as you." He pointed out.

"Not right now you aren't, remember?"

"Six months, Casey. Six months does not make me old and you young." Age and his looks were sore points with Derek, even though dating was low down his priority list these days.

"It will at the end of next year when you are in your thirties and I'm in my twenties."  
He sighed. "For _six_ months."

Casey frowned and leaned forward towards him. "You know, I've got a great cream that would do wonders for those crow's feet." She confided.

"I do not have crow's feet!" he objected

"That's right, D. Positive mental attitude. Of course that won't work on the grey hairs. Let me know when you've acknowledged those. I've found the perfect shade of hair dye for you. It's called Antique Copper."

Derek narrowed his eyes and looked at her. "Ha ha! Actually I was thinking of taking a leaf from your book and being proud about my age-related imperfections."

"Age-related Imperfections? What imperfections? I still have the skin and hair of an eighteen year old."

"The skin of an eighteen year old, maybe, but you're shifting some serious curves on those hips of yours and your wattle is just…"  
"My _what_?"

"Your wattle. You know the flap of skin old people develop on their neck under their chin."

"I know what a "wattle" is Derek." Her tone was ominous. "You're getting dangerously close to calling me a turkey. I don't have a wattle."

"Bwok! Bwok! Bwok…did you say?" Derek chuckled. Casey glared at him and he raised his hands in defence.

He looked at her properly then and noticed the anger was hiding a degree of hurt in her eyes. His smile became more genuine and affectionate and he leaned close to her.

"Princess. You look far younger than your age and I don't have a problem with either your hips or your neck." And then as if to prove it, he closed the gap and pressed soft lips against the edge of her jaw, just once.

* * *

"I know I'm going to regret asking _you_ this, but is this dress too young for me?" Casey asked. She was wearing a deep red, Thai silk dress. It was beautifully patterned and very tight. Casey realised as she looked into the full length mirror which graced the door of the closet in the bedroom that although almost ankle-length the dress which she had purchased this morning was so tight it left little to the imagination.

Derek emerged from the bathroom doing up a button on the cuff of his dress shirt.

He glanced up at Casey, did a double take and swallowed hard.

"'Too young' is not the phrase I would have used." He choked out.

"What is the phrase you would have used?" She arched an eyebrow.

"Perfect." Derek admitted quietly. "And before you read anything into that word, I mean it."

They arrived at the club about ten thirty. Derek was wearing a black shirt and jacket, coupled with a pair of expensive black jeans. Casey caught herself looking at him several times as they waited for a cab on the sidewalk. They both felt a little overdressed. It had been a long time since they had been clubbing but Derek knew enough about this particular club to know that it catered to the really rich. You got in by invitation or by a very large wad of cash.

And you were very careful how you dressed.

The sidewalk outside the club was six-deep with people, but a small red carpet led from the road to the front door of the club. The carpet was kept separate from the marauding masses by virtue of a dark blue rope suspended from chrome poles that lined the queue. At the door were three doormen who could easily have been BBG's brother and two cousins.

At Derek's instigation the cab stopped at the carpet and one of the doormen came to open the door.

"Are you kidding? They'll never let us in with the VIPs!" Casey hissed to Derek who just smirked in return.

Casey was helped from the cab first, but Derek wasn't slow at joining her side. The doorman, who had opened the door for Casey, greeted Derek expectantly and the latter beamed, grabbed the guy by the hand and patted him on his back. To the outside world, it looked as though Derek was best friends with the guy, though he hadn't ever met him before. Casey was confused, staring at the men with their joined hands as they shook.

Then she spotted something poking out from between Derek's fingers: rectangular pieces of paper with distinct sepia tones to them. Before she could comment on it, the notes had transferred hands and Derek was ushering her forward behind the doorman who was leading the way towards the club.

"How much?" Casey asked.

"A thousand." Derek replied.

"Dollars?"

"No. Yen." Derek said sarcastically with an exasperated frown.

"Can you afford that?"

"Yeah. But I ain't paying. The department is." He hissed. "Now shut up and look pretty because, believe me with you in that dress, people are watching us."

The interior of the club was an assault on the senses.

Firstly, there was the noise. It was intense with the bass shaking the very floor beneath their feet. Casey was sure that not only could you hear the music in every part of the club, but probably in every neighbourhood in the surrounding area.

Next were the lights: the bright white and blue lights bouncing off walls fashioned into mirror shards. It gave the room the appearance of an ice queen's palace in which someone had trapped lightning. Every surface was capable of reflecting light and as the disco lights hit the facets of the mirrors, many did. It gave the room a paradoxical light and dark feel.

The air within the club was heavy with the residue of smoke from dry ice machines and the heady combination of sweat and scent. The large warehouse space must have been almost full to capacity because Casey could taste the crowd in the air – something she was trying hard not to think about. But how could she avoid it when, just a few steps into the main room and she was immediately pressed up against at least five complete strangers? And Derek.

"Do you want a drink?" Derek shouted into her ear.

"Are you drinking?" Casey shouted back.

"One beer." Derek mouthed.

"Then yes. I'll have a beer." Casey said. As a rule she didn't drink beer, but clubs were the exception because, her doctor's brain kicking in again, it's harder to spike something with a small opening; Harder but not impossible. Derek linked his hand with hers tightly and pulled her through the crowds towards the bar.

The bar was raised up from the rest of the floor, so was a good vantage point. Derek parked Casey in a reasonably empty corner and disappeared off to the bar. Eventually he came back and handed her a beer.

"Don't worry, I didn't spike it." He said into her ear with a grin.

Casey rolled her eyes at him. "I'm not that bad." She shouted back.

"Yes you are." He replied, leaning close again. "It's good to be OCD about your safety. It's a shame you won't listen when I tell you to stop following me."

"I can't help it Derek."

"I know. It's my magnetic personality. You can't get enough of me."

"You know sometimes I feel like your ego is a third person in this relationship."

Derek chuckled softly and the warmth of his breath brushed against her temple. They were standing so close to each other that Casey could feel him from the point where his smart black boots peeked out from his black jeans to touch her vivid red heels, through his bony hip leaning against her own, to the warm arm which wound around her waist and splayed fingers on her opposite hip.

"What's the plan?" Casey asked to distract herself from attempting to kiss the jaw which rested against her cheek.

Derek shifted slightly and Casey found herself pushed back against the mirrored wall by his body as he leaned close into her neck. To anyone else, it looked like they were necking. Casey, however, could hear him explaining the plan, his face hidden by her hair.

"I'm going to work my way around the edge of the club and find the way to the admin offices. They have to be here somewhere. When I find them, I'm going to work out some way of getting into them. I'll scout around and see what I can find."

"Okay, What do I do?"

"You stand here and look pretty."

"Bastard."

Derek laughed. "I'll tell you what. You find yourself a good vantage point and keep an eye out for anyone you've seen before – or anything that looks suspicious."

"And if I find it?"

"Then you let me know."

"How?"  
Derek was stuck for a moment. If he told her to phone him, it might make his cell ring at an awkward time.

"Phone me. I'll set my cell to vibrate only."

"And if you don't answer?"

"I don't know. You'll think of something."

"Gee thanks."

Derek looked at his watch. "I'll meet you back here in thirty minutes."  
"What if you don't come back?"

"Nice positive thinking there, sweetheart."

"Trouble follows you around, Derek."

"Yeah I know. Her name's Casey McDonald."

"Idiot!" Casey murmured, but the word was lost in his shoulder.

"Just be careful." He said, pulling her close.

"I'm not the one going into the lion's den."

"You're not the one having a relaxing picnic in the park either."

They pulled back to look at each other.

"I mean it, princess." Derek said.

"You too."

Derek kissed her softly on the lips.

"Any problems call Manning." He said. "Spike has enough on his plate right now."

Derek slipped away from her then, and disappeared into the crowd.

Almost immediately, Casey found herself confronted by a tall guy whose ego probably rivalled Derek's.

"Hi gorgeous." He started.

"You're not my type." Casey replied automatically.

"Oh…how do you know?" He asked moving closer.

"I prefer evolved."  
"Ouch!" The guy stepped back dramatically with both hands pressed to his heart and then forward to try and encircle her waist.

"No. I used to kick-box." Casey told him putting a hand on his chest to push him away. "'Ouch' is what you'll say if you don't remove your hands." She turned and stomped (elegantly) away.

* * *

Casey couldn't see Derek moving around the club, even though she moved to the highest vantage point in the room which was next to the DJ's booth. The girl behind the perspex very obviously checked her out, something which would have passed High School Casey completely by. It didn't bother this Casey either, particularly as the girl motioned to her to stand to the side of her booth partially on the stage. There was an even better view of the club from here.

"Hi. I'm Leesa." The DJ introduced herself with a shout and a smile.

Casey smiled politely back. "Casey."

"That's a pretty hot dress." Leesa commented.

"Thank you."

"So are you here alone?"  
Casey shook her head. "No I'm with my…" She paused and decided to lie. "…boyfriend. He's just gone to the men's room."

"Oh. He's a lucky guy."

Casey nodded absentmindedly.

It wasn't that she was being rude or even trying to ignore the other girl. It was just that she couldn't see Derek anywhere. It had been about fifteen minutes since he left her and she wasn't exactly getting worried, it was just her mind kept wandering through different scenarios: Derek getting caught, Derek lying bleeding in the alley, Derek gu…suffering Grubby's fate.

She let her eyes roam the enormous space before her looking for Derek, but seeing nothing more than hundreds of people dressed in very little clothing bumping and grinding against each other. She failed to see the attraction.

Casey was just contemplating why certain girls wear certain outfits when she saw something that made her freeze – and her heart rise into her mouth.

BBG: "Big black guy" from Derek's apartment, the man-mountain that Casey had whacked over the head with a frying pan…twice.

He was crossing the dance floor purposefully. Casey glanced along the route ahead of him towards his destination and spotted something different about the wall – a small sign marked "Private" set on to what must be a hidden door. She had found the entrance to the offices just as BBG was about to enter them.

Quickly, she twisted her small purse round on the long strap which crossed her body, so that she could open it. Retrieving her cell phone, Casey dialled Derek's own phone.

No answer. She tried again but to no avail.

Casey had no idea where Derek was, or if he had felt the vibrations of his cell. As she stood pondering what to do next, she could feel the vibrations of the music through the floor and wondered how on earth he could have hoped to know when his cell was ringing.

She knew Derek was behind the scenes of this noisy place, rifling through the private files and paperwork of people who wanted to kill him, correction: _them_. One of the bad guys could be there right now of course, but she knew for certain that one of them would definitely be there in a matter of minutes – just as soon as he pushed his way through the crowds.

Casey needed to do something. And she needed to do it fast.

* * *

**AN: It wasn't intentional to leave you with a cliff-hanger when there might be a delay, so forgive me if you don't get the next chapter for a couple of days.**

**Tomorrow is my father-in-law's funeral which means a trip out of town. I actually don't know if I am going because to add insult to injury, both of my children are off sick from school (virus and laryngitis). If they are poorly tomorrow, I won't be able to leave them with my parents...so bizarrely, I might get an update written.**

**If they are okay, I will be a little out of the loop until Saturday.**

**I hope you'll understand if I say I'd prefer you didn't get an update!**

**Anyway, there's about three or four chapters left of this story. Then on to story two.**

**Have a good weekend!**

**Sarah**


	29. Cornered

_She knew Derek was behind the scenes of this noisy place, rifling through the private files and paperwork of people who wanted to kill him, correction: them. One of the bad guys could be there with him right now of course, but she knew for certain that one of them would definitely be there in a matter of minutes – just as soon as he pushed his way through the crowds._

_Casey needed to do something. And she needed to do it fast._

* * *

Casey's distraction was noticed by the admiring DJ.

"Are you okay?" Leesa asked, putting a hand on Casey's arm. Casey jerked awake.

"Do you get to choose your play list?" She asked. The other girl nodded.

"Great. I'll give you a hundred dollars if you play Shabba Ranks' "Mr Loverman" right now." Casey announced.

Leesa looked taken aback. "A hundred?"

"Yeah." Casey said, bending down and grasping the hem of her silk dress. She yanked hard and Leesa heard the ripping of seams as the dress split up one side to a point about four inches about her knee. Casey switched sides and repeated the action. Leesa's eyes widened.

"Honey, if it will make you tear your clothes off, I'll play fucking Rachmaninov!"

* * *

Derek left Casey with only a residual worry. Whilst he _was_ concerned about the way she had shoe-horned herself into his life, he also recognised that she didn't do things entirely without heed to danger. He was impressed, but then being impressed by Casey wasn't exactly a new experience for him.

It took him a few moments to locate the hidden door to the back offices of the club and even then, it wasn't exactly hidden. There was a sign on the door saying "Private" and the door, whilst covered in similar material to its surroundings had obvious cracks at the hinge side. To his surprise it wasn't locked.

Derek waited until the people in the area were distracted by a small fight which had broken out on the dance-floor and then let himself inside.

The corridor beyond was dimly lit to avoid light seeping through into the club. There was enough light, however to see that it was a long service route stretching in both directions; a corridor which was plainly decorated and had, at intervals, doors leading from it. Closer inspection revealed that the doors weren't labelled which left Derek cursing at the need to check every room.

Turning right, the shorter length of the passage, left him with two doors which he quickly established were store cupboards of the domestic variety containing a large floor polisher, cleaning fluids and paper towels etcetera.

Turning left led him back towards the end of the building which housed the entrance and he was fairly sure the bottom door opened onto the entrance foyer of the club. He made his way down the corridor in this direction.

To start off with, he thought this was going to be fairly easy. The first two doors he came across also opened into storage space, but at the third door, he groaned inwardly, because the third door led to another hallway.

This second brightly lit space, richly carpeted and with wood panelling on the walls, appeared to run parallel to the first, and was much, much longer. Looking right, Derek could see that it ran beyond where its sister corridor finished, in fact turning a corner which must have meant it cut the first corridor off. Derek followed the second hallway as far as the bend, turned when it did and came face to face with a door labelled "Stage Right".

Having no desire to enter the stage, Derek turned abruptly and started trying the doors in the other direction. Most were locked and he cursed his bad luck – until he reached the fourth door which was situated about halfway down the hallway, and just a metre short of the door leading from the first corridor.

As soon as Derek saw it, he knew that he had found what he was looking for.

The office.

Derek hesitated before trying the door. He waiting silently, listening for the sound of movement in the space beyond. Nothing, so he gently tried the handle and when he realised it was unlocked, pushed open the door.

If the hallway outside had been plush, this office was in a different league. The wood panelling in here covered every inch of the walls, and a large heavy desk took up a good section of the floor space. To one side, were a row of filing cabinets and two other smaller desks, also in a dark wood, though clearly less impressive than the main one. All the desks in the room had computers on. It was rather incongruous inside a warehouse.

Derek locked the door behind him and made a mental note that there was only the rear window as an alternative exit route. He frowned also realising that there was nowhere in the office to hide either. He would need to be quick about searching this place – and he would need to be vigilant. He crossed to the main desk and realising that the computer was already active, switched on the computer screen. A large flashing graphic asked him to enter the password to unlock the screen. Derek sighed. He could probably hack in, his training and experience over the years – and at school – had given him the skills for that. But such endeavours take time, and time he did not have. He switched off the screen again. _Time to resort to the old-fashioned methods._

Derek started to examine the other items on the desk.

There was a pencil holder, square, wooden and velvet-lined. He wrapped a finger and thumb around the pencils, lifted them from the pot, and turned the pot over to examine the underside. Nothing. He dropped the pencils back in with a dull thud. There was a phone, sleek and modern – but probably largely redundant as he suspected most of the conversations and business transactions were made using the manager's cell phone, which was absent. Derek would have loved to get the phone numbers from that guy's memory card.

Eyes widening as a thought occurred to him, he picked up the receiver of the desk phone and pressed the _Redial_ button.

"Domino's. May I take your order?"

Derek hung up with a chuckle.

He was about to turn to something else, when he noticed the small electronic box beside the phone. It had a simple on/off switch and no labelling which meant Derek had no idea what it was for. Unable to resist, he flicked the switch and the room suddenly filled with the sounds from the dance-floor outside. The music playing was some Noughties disco number that he vaguely remembered and he found himself nodding his head in time to the music as he continued his search.

Rather ostentatiously in a world where very few people still used a fountain pen, the desk he was currently searching had a large blotter pad for the occupant to lean on as they wrote. In the movies, this would have been an ideal place for Derek to discover the important clue, tucked into a corner or written in reverse in smudged ink. But, Derek checked – because he liked improbable movies – and there was nothing. In fact, the large wooden desk was a large, _empty_ wooden desk and the drawers down one side were unlocked and full of old Windows Vista manuals, keyboard templates and paperclips.

Moving on to the filing cabinets, Derek noted with annoyance that they were all protected by combination locks. But breaking into them was probably unnecessary since they were helpfully labelled: "Cleaning Staff resumes", "DJ references", Employee contracts, Sick forms… Derek considered breaking into the filing cabinet marked with A-Z index markers, wondering if the last drawer contained a file on "Mr X". But he didn't.

Ten minutes into his search and having covered all of the desks, computers and filing cabinets (including looking for items stuck to the underside of the desks), Derek sat down heavily on the edge of one of the smaller desks. It was the desk closest to the door and it had a large rolodex on it. The force of Derek's butt hitting the wooden surface caused the card index to spin noisily for a moment before resting with a click. Derek glanced at it in annoyance and then his expression changed to one of curiosity.

Now resting uppermost was a red bordered index card with no name – just a number.

Derek reached for a post-it note and pencil and scribbled the number down. Then he flicked through the rolodex again, looking for more red-edged cards. He found three.

Derek was just about to try phoning the numbers to see who answered when his attention was taken back to the main desk in the room; the music on the small speaker had changed. The whole time he had been searching, it had been to an accompaniment of music from the Noughties – mainly disco. Now, so incongruous it throbbed like a sore thumb, he heard a track from the early nineties – and one which had its own video image permanently etched into his brain.

Nine years ago, Casey had got high on "baked goods" at a college party. By the time Derek had realised the state she was in, she was on a table, half-dressed swaying seductively to the track now playing in the club. He could not hear "Mr Loverman" now without thinking of Casey. He smiled indulgently, and then narrowed his eyes. Quickly reaching into his pocket, he pulled his cell phone free to find he had missed calls, _important_ calls. From Casey.

He had missed her calls, so somewhere in the club, Casey had arranged for a signal to warn him that he needed to get out of there.

"Shit!" he hissed and made for the door.

* * *

Before Derek could open the door, he froze with his hand mid-air. Someone was rattling the door handle.

"Hey! Angus you fucking ass-hole! You'd better not be hiding in there! Papillon doesn't like cowards. He wants to talk to you and you know it had better be sooner rather than later!"

The female voice broke off and a sharp thud on the door followed, which Derek assumed was a well-placed kick. The voice continued to mutter obscenities edged with a drunken slur even as it decreased in volume. It seemed to Derek that the girl (for she sounded quite young) had moved away from the door and if he had to hazard a guess – which he did – she was still moving away from the door.

Quickly, aware that Casey had tried to warn him of something and it probably wasn't Papillon's young messenger, Derek unlocked the door and eased it open.

He was just in time to see the girl disappear through a door further down the hallway.

Derek was struck with a strange sense of recognition as he looked at her in the distance. He had been right she was young, possibly not yet twenty. She was gorgeous and she was drunk. Fortunately she didn't see him because he had stopped and stared, trying to put a name to her face, or a location for where he had seen her. He wasn't even sure he had seen her in person before.

He shook himself awake from his musings, aware that time was pressing, and stepped out into the hall.

There was a moment of indecision for Derek as he stood there. Here, outside of what was obviously a very well insulated office, Derek could hear the sounds from the dance-floor, and what he heard made him uneasy. Firstly, it was definitely Shabba Ranks currently being played and secondly, the clientele of the nightclub were cheering and cat-calling. Derek's mind flashed back nine years to when he had walked in on Casey in her underwear strutting her stuff on the table.

The indecision came about because, whilst he desperately wanted to go and reclaim his partner in crime and stop whatever insanity she was perpetrating, he knew he should follow the other girl.

Conscience getting the better of him, he took off after the younger girl, quickly reaching the door she had disappeared through. He pushed it open tentatively. Derek immediately relaxed slightly. The girl wasn't behind the door. Behind the door was an external alleyway – and it was empty. In the distance, he could see diminishing tail-lights.

Derek let the door close without passing through it. Duty done, he started to jog back up the long hallway, passing the entrance to the first corridor, the office he had searched and eventually reaching the bend in the hall. He knew that Casey was up to something, and if the cat-calls were a sign, everyone in the club was watching her. That meant only one thing; Casey was on the stage. He stepped forward and pulled at the door marked "Stage Right".

Derek didn't see the door to the first corridor open behind him. He didn't see the small posse of large guys, including BBG enter the second hallway and make their way to the office. If he had, he probably would have stepped up onto the stage, darted across grabbing Casey on the way, and tried to push his way through the crowds to the exit.

Instead, he opened the door slowly, stepped up on to the stage and stared, his jaw (figuratively) hitting the floor.

* * *

Casey's new best friend/admirer / aka the DJ had quickly complied with Casey's request, selecting the Shabba Ranks classic from her on-line library and cue-ing it up. She nodded at Casey who walked, unnoticed across the stage to a raised section where a pole was fixed for a solitary dancer to "entertain". Leesa watched her go, her heart and libido racing in anticipation.

As the first "Mr Loverman" of the track was called out, Casey grabbed the pole firmly, hooked her right ankle around its base and swung herself into her first moves. She circled her hips and pushed out her breasts as she leaned back, letting her unrestrained hair fall behind her. With a thrusting wiggle of her chest, she pulled herself back close to the pole and slid down it, the metal brushing against parts of Casey most men could not reach. As she perched on her haunches, pole still pressing tight to her body, she slid long, straightened fingers seductively up the pole, pulling herself back up with a roll of her head.

The crowd cheered and Casey was vaguely aware that they had stopped dancing and were now crowding close to watch her. She swung herself round and leaned back towards the crowd, one hand holding the pole, and her right leg hooked around it. Casey reached up with her free hand and ran it through her long hair in a manoeuvre that wouldn't have shamed a porn actress and the whistling started.

The routine continued, Casey trying to make it look like she was getting intimate with a fireman's pole in order to get the crowd making as much noise as possible. She hoped, if the noise was loud enough, Derek would leave what he was doing and come to investigate.

Preferably, without bumping into BBG and friends.

She made the show as good as she could using her right leg to hook her close to or step her away. (There was a reason she wasn't using her left). She slid her back down the pole and then when she reached the bottom and bounced on her haunches again, ran her flattened fingers down to where her silk dress hung in a flap between her knees and stroked the hand up over her crotch and higher up her body.

Derek appeared in the wings at the point where Casey undulated her body against the pole in a manner that looked as though she thrusting against it. She was leaning back again, tousled hair hanging free, one hand holding the pole while the other one palmed her breast. Casey pulled herself upright suddenly and she was staring right at him.

"Fuck me!" Derek gasped involuntarily under his breath.

Casey's eyes widened, she winked at him and then she grinned, relieved to see that her performance was successful in getting his attention, in more than one way.

Leesa caught herself holding her breath, noticed that the music was drawing to a close and cued up Lady Gaga's "Starstruck" in the hopes that Casey would keep going.

* * *

Derek crossed the distance between them as Casey continued to dance. He caught her waist and pulled her to him. Casey smiled.

"You called?" he quipped with a smirk.

Casey laughed and pulled him into her routine which had now left the pole and become slightly more "Casey-esque".

"I spotted an old friend." She explained, letting him tip her back dramatically and then twisting away from him in a graceful and seductive manner.

"Oh?" Derek asked moving close to her again, his hands itching to grab her, though they stayed by his side, even while they performed their little two-step.

"BBG." Casey said dodging him again.

"Shit." Derek swore quietly. "Where?"  
"In the crowd. He's gone through to the back now. Where were you?"  
"The offices." Derek explained.

"Did you find anything?"

"Not sure. A couple of phone numbers. It's all locked up tighter than my granny's…"

"Derek!"

He smirked as he caught her again. Casey back-flipped out of his arms, her tiny purse on its long chain flapping slightly at the movement. Derek rolled his eyes and grabbed her again.

"Always the drama with you." He commented.

"You wouldn't have it any other way." Casey retorted.

_Ain't that a fact?_ Derek muttered to himself and then growing serious, "We need to get out of here. If BBG is here, with you up on the stage, it's only a matter of when they spot us."

"I know." Casey said, letting him pull her close. "Shall we take this one home?" She asked, referring to their dance routine.

Derek was about to reply when a shout from the dance floor drew his attention.

"Shit!" he gasped. "Too late. They found us!"

In the midst of the crowds, evidently returned from their brief trip behind the scenes were BBG and his cronies. It was obviously from their gesticulation that they had seen Casey and Derek, and that they knew who they were. Fortunately, they were in a sea of drunken revellers.

Unfortunately, they were now pushing their way through.

Derek grabbed Casey's hand. "This way!" he shouted, pulling her toward the stage door which he had used earlier. Casey nodded and let him lead her, purse still bouncing against her hip towards the only realistic exit. In the dark of the stage wings, they stumbled down the couple of stairs and Derek pushed hard against the door, tumbling them out on to the plush carpet of the hallway.

"Where are we?" Casey asked, still letting herself be dragged.

"The hallway with the offices." Derek explained. "There's a door down here to an alleyway outside."

There was no time for hesitation as they fled down the panelled hall. Derek drew his gun and counted doors even as he grasped Casey's hand firmly. Behind them, they could hear a door slam above the continuing sound of Lady Gaga. BBG and his men were following them.

"How much further?" Casey asked.

"That door down there." Derek explained nodding. Casey quickened her pace and Derek squeezed her hand in gratitude.

Moments later, and still pursued, they burst out of the building and into the alleyway. Derek turned and led them towards the open end – and then he realised.

This was the alleyway where he had found Jazz.


	30. Too Close for Comfort

"Where are we?" Casey asked as Derek dragged her down the alley.

"Service entrance for the club." He shouted back to where his outstretched hand met hers, wishing that she had shoes on more suited for running. "Couldn't you have worn Converse or something?"

"In this dress? I'd have stuck out a mile, Derek. And don't ask me to take them off. It's below freezing and my coat is back in the club. If I take my shoes off I'll get pneumonia."

"If you live long enough." Derek said quieter this time. Casey closed her mouth abruptly and ran faster.

"The trouble is," Derek said a moment later, puffing as he tried to balance running and talking. "…we're in the back end of "Beyond" here. There's no such thing as passing traffic so there is no such thing as a cab – at least not until we get closer to closing time. I should have driven."

Behind them, they both caught the clang of a metal framed door as it slammed against brick work.

"That's them." Casey gasped. "They're out of the building."  
"You think?" Derek panted sarcastically. "The best thing is if we give them the slip and look for a way across the river. The irony being there are cabs galore across the water."

"Are there bridges across?" Casey asked, knowing very little about Ottawa.

"Not for a couple of miles. There maybe a utility pipe or something. Although I'm not sure how you'd make it across on one of those."

"A what?"

"Utility pipe. It's like a big pipe which curves up and over the river to take services to the other side."  
"Services?"  
"Water, electricity etc. Jesus Casey! You're smarter than this."

"I'm freezing and on the run from some very nasty bad guys, Derek. I think I can be forgiven for being distracted."  
"The adrenaline should make you focussed, not distracted. Concentrate."

Casey decided not to argue; keeping up with Derek wasn't easy.

At the end of the alley, where they met the main road, Derek turned them to the right. They ran along the sidewalk which was riddled with potholes, making Casey stumble and trip frequently. After one particularly bad trip, she apologised.

"I'm sorry. I'm trying."

Derek snorted. "I know you are…_very trying_." But then he grinned, slipped his arm around her back to support her, and they ran with his arm in place from then on.

He was looking for another side alley, but they were still running along the front of the warehouse next to the club. It looked as though it ran a full block and maybe more and every entrance was firmly closed. Behind them, but still some distance away, they could hear running feet and shouting. He glanced over his shoulder but couldn't see their pursuers. In the darkness of the warehouse district where it was still a couple of hours too early for the warehouses to be active there wasn't enough street lighting to be certain of who or how many were following them. It sounded as though they were getting closer, however.

"We need to find a hiding place soon." Derek said.

Casey, in the interest of not passing out through lack of oxygen, said nothing.

She was still fit, as had been evidenced by her dancing, but it was more down to luck than effort. It had been a while since she had done regular exercise, although she did occasionally do a little jazz. As the poisons of her anaerobic respiration began to hit her muscles and the stitch started, she made a mental note to sign up with a gym as soon as possible. If she made it out of this alive.

Eventually, the large warehouse did end and Derek led Casey into the alley it formed with its alternative neighbour.

Halfway down they realised it was a dead end.

* * *

"Don't say a word." Derek hissed under his breath, both of them aware that their pursuers were getting closer and there wasn't time to back out of the alley.

"It's okay." Casey said in a small voice. "I thought it was a through-route too."

Derek glanced at her in surprise at the sentiment. He dropped his arm from her and turned his attention to the alley, and their survival.

It was very long, running down to the back of the warehouse and beyond; it's far side reaching the river. Unlike the alley by the club, this one had several stacks of rubbish and boxes, but they would be pointless to try and hide behind unless you were trying to shoot your way out, which Derek would attempt only as a last resort.

They stopped on the bank of the river, unable to turn left or right because there was no bank between the warehouse and its neighbouring building.

"If we can't go forward and we can't go back…" Derek said.

"…then we go up." Casey said brightly, pointing to a rusty old fire escape above them. Derek's eyes widened.

"Or go up." He confirmed. "Think it will hold our weight?"

"It should be okay if we go one at a time."

"Okay. You first. My upper body strength is greater. I can help you up and then pull myself up."

Derek grabbed Casey by her thighs and lifted her up to the fire escape. She grasped the rung of the stuck ladder above her. Derek, his face full of Casey's butt, staggered slightly.

"Relax, Derek." Casey muttered. "Enjoy the experience."

"Fuck off!"

* * *

"Was it something I said?" Simon asked, fixing Marti with a concerned look. Marti jerked herself back to the present.

"What?" Her shoulders dropped. "Oh…sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

Simon leaned back against the sofa in Casey's apartment. They were watching a movie and eating pizza. This bugged Simon more than a little. The last four times they had had a "movie and pizza" evening events on the sofa had led to them coming very close to walking through Marti's bedroom door, the movie forgotten, and both of them hungry for something other than food. He wasn't irked that it hadn't happened yet…he'd wait for her forever if necessary. It was just that he felt like tonight she had pulled away from him in a major way. Simon wondered if Marti was getting cold feet about their relationship.

"A problem shared…" Simon suggested. Marti smiled weakly.

"I know, I know. It's just…" She sighed. "Casey's up to something and it scares me."  
Simon relaxed.

"Tell me." Supportive boyfriend he could definitely do, particularly if it meant that he wasn't about to get dumped. "I thought she was with her friend Mikey?"

"She is. The "something" involves him too."

"You think they've had a fight?"  
Marti smiled. "Oh believe me, they'll be fighting. It's just…"  
"They fight?" Simon sounded surprised. Marti giggled.  
"Oh yes. Multiple times per day. Seriously, my brother knows all her buttons."  
"Are we talking about Edwin or Robbie?" Simon asked, confusion colouring his voice.

Marti regarded her boyfriend of two months carefully. She trusted him. She trusted him a lot: with her own safety, with her virginity. The question was, did she trust him with the safety of her brother and sister?

Marti smiled softly. "Neither. I'm talking about Derek."

"Derek? Is he the brother who…?" Simon's voice trailed away.

"Yes. Derek is supposed to be dead."  
"Supposed to be?"  
"It's complicated."  
"And what about Casey?"

"That's complicated too."  
"It always is with your sister."  
Marti chuckled.

And then she told Simon all about Derek and Casey.

* * *

When Casey was safely on the second small landing, Derek hoisted himself up. The whole process had taken merely seconds, but it was a relief to be above the alley. Casey immediately removed her shoes, hooking her finger through them to carry as she climbed.

"I thought it was too cold for that." Derek pointed out.

"I'll make too much noise if I climb in heels." She explained.

Derek nodded his agreement and silently they climbed higher.

Casey and Derek had been able to just run from the club, and so, initially, had the men behind them whilst they were still on the main street. When they turned into the alley, Casey and Derek didn't need to slow down. The _men_ did though, because they knew Derek was armed. There was always a chance that he was hiding somewhere and they would be fired on. They took the journey into the alley very slowly.

* * *

BBG took a while to catch up with his foot soldiers; his weight a definite disadvantage.

"What have you got?" He asked Harry, his second-in-command.

"We followed them to the alley, and it's a dead end, but we haven't got them yet."

"Why not?"  
"Are you kidding me? We've been warned about him, besides, the guy's a fucking red coat and he's armed. We go in there without a plan and you'll be able to strain pasta through my designer shirt. We're taking this one step at a time."  
"The girl?"  
"Well I'd say she wasn't armed. That dress is pretty tight. Certainly didn't see any frying pans in her holsters."

BBG glared at him. "Listen wiseass, when I want cheap humour I'll go to some fucker who's actually amusing. You find them, and you bring them back here. Papillon wants them alive and well."

"Yeah yeah. I get the message. I'm just saying, we shouldn't disregard the intel we've had on Essen. He's not like the other two. He has nothing to lose."

"Oh. I wouldn't say that. Seems to me just lately wherever he is, so is the girl. It's like they're joined at the hip or something."

"Can you blame him? I mean I'd tap it in an instant."

"You think with your dick. One day it'll get you killed."

"Until then it will get me laid."

"Listen moron, you concentrate on the job at hand or the boss will hand your dick to you on a plate. Or maybe he'll decide you need the same fate as that fucking grass. You really want to be scrabbling around trying to piece together your own intestines?"

His comment was met with silence.

"Nah. I didn't think so. Go get them. Alive."

* * *

"They are taking their time." Casey noted in a whisper as they climbed up past the second storey. Derek nodded.

"Covering their asses. They know I have a gun."

"How far up are we going?"

"To the top." Derek said. "It'll help us look for a way across the river, and there maybe another fire escape on the other side.

They continued to the top and stepped over the edge of the building and onto the roof. Derek glanced back. Below them the men were still oblivious to their lofty position. He jerked his head towards a small brick structure across the roof. "Let's make for that. It'll give us something to hide behind if they come up."

They started to cross the flat roof together in silence, still wary of drawing attention to their presence on the roof. The distance to be crossed was less than 100 metres, but fate was not about to make things easy. On the fifth or sixth step from the fire escape, Derek's foot sunk through a hole in the deteriorating roof material, he stumbled and lost his grip on his gun. Casey watched in horror as it skated across the flat roof, hit a drainage gulley and fell noisily through the three storeys of building. A moment later, a soft plopping noise announced its arrival in a deep pool of water.

"Shit!" Derek hissed. Casey looked back to where he was hauling himself out of the hole. The exclamation appeared to have as much to do with his ankle as it did to do with the loss of his gun.

"Are you okay?" Casey asked, her voice slightly panicked.

"My fucking ankle." Derek hissed. "I think I've sprained it."

Casey was on her knees beside him in an instant. "Here. Let me." She murmured.

She gingerly peeled back the sock from his foot.

"Maybe I should take the shoe off." Derek said.

"You'd never get it back on again. You're right. It's sprained, I think." And then in doctor mode. "I'd need an x-ray to confirm it." She rolled her eyes as he gave her a look. "I know, I know. I meant later when we get rid of these guys."

"This is going to slow me down." Derek said. "Maybe we should split up. You could find a hiding place and I'll draw them away."

"With a sprained ankle? Be realistic Derek. Come on. You need me now more than ever, but we can't argue about this here. Let's get across to that hut-thing and see if we can hide."

She helped Derek to hobble across the roof space, reaching it just in time. They slipped behind the structure just as the first man appeared over the top of the fire escape.

Derek pressed Casey back into the wall, putting his finger to her lips to silence her. She brushed the hand from her mouth, caught it and to Derek's surprise, lowered his hand to the top of her thigh. Her eyes were trying to tell him something in the bright moonlight of a clear winter's night. He frowned.

Casey pushed his hand further down to the split in her dress and under the fabric.

"What?" He murmured close to her ear, the cold and the circumstances killing the erotic thoughts which would normally accompany his hand feeling under Casey's skirts – or at least that's what he told himself. "This isn't the time for touchy feely, princess."

"Idiot." Casey hissed back against his ear. She led his hand higher, and despite the cold, Derek started to sweat.

Then his fingers brushed against cold, hard steel and he blinked.

Casey had a .22 calibre gun duck-taped to the inside of her left thigh.

Derek's eyes widened, and Casey smirked.

"Thank me later." She said, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Derek slid the gun free.

"When I start firing," he murmured in her ear. "run like fuck towards the other side of the roof. Make for that metal hand rail. It looks like another fire escape."

Casey nodded. "So long as you are right behind me." She promised.

"You think I'd leave you alone in this?" Derek whispered. "Hell! You'd screw everything up." He smiled, but it was affectionate. Then he leaned forward and kissed her lips.

"_Now!_" he cried, and simultaneously, he started shooting, and Casey broke away from the building.

The sudden burst of gun fire was effective. The first thing that happened was the shock of the sound made the man at the top of the stairs slip down the length of an entire ladder with a loud clatter. Since he was blocking the ladder, the people behind him couldn't climb up to respond.

The delay gave Derek time to move after Casey.

By the time the pursuer's head appeared over the edge of the building, Derek's own head was following Casey's below the edge of the building on the opposite side. The returned shots bounced harmlessly off the brick work in a cloud of dust.

"Keep going!" Derek called down to Casey, trying not to cry out with the pain as he hobbled down the ladder. Casey said nothing in reply, just kept moving.

They could both hear the footsteps above as their pursuers ran across the roof.

Casey sped up her descent and Derek followed.

Shortly they reached the bottom, Casey first and then Derek landing with a soft thump beside her in the alley.

"I can't believe you taped a gun to your…" Derek started but stopped as he turned around from the fire escape.

Casey was standing a few feet away. A look of panic on her face, and a gun pointed to her head.

"Glad you could join us." A voice said. "I've wanted to meet you for some time. Now…co-operate and Cinderella here doesn't get a third eye."


	31. Achilles Heel

Derek groaned as the awareness of his headache hit him forcibly. Either he had been on the world's biggest bender or someone had brained him with a monkey wrench or some such equivalent.

_The hazards of this fucking job!_ Next time he saw Spike he was going to ask him for a raise. He didn't deserve the crap he put up with on an almost daily basis; enduring the long cold stake-outs, taking the beatings the bad guys dished out, and living the solitary "no-friend" existence. (Of course the latter wasn't a requirement of his job, merely one of Derek's own making.)

And now his ankle was screaming for attention. _Damn dilapidated warehouses and their shit roofs…_

He stopped his inner monologue and his eyes flew open as the events of…_when exactly?_...hit him and he realised that he hadn't been on his own earlier. He had been with Casey.

He glanced around. He was on his own now.

Derek tried to sit up, headache and ankle forgotten, but his hands were tied behind his back and the movement made him topple awkwardly to one side, wrenching his arm in the process and giving yet another muscle group a reason to complain.

"Casey?" He whispered into the dim light of wherever he was. There was no answer.

Derek wriggled around a bit more and eventually managed to get upright enough to be able to lean against a wall.

It was a very smooth wall, probably made of concrete. It felt cold and damp against his back and he was sure the ground beneath his butt was wet, but the new position was infinitely preferable to lying on the damp floor. He looked around and his heart sank. Still no Casey.

"You're awake I see." A female voice said from somewhere higher than his head and just behind him. Though he had never heard her speak before, and though the light was limited, he recognised the girl from the hallway. She was twitchy and her eyes darted about. He remembered her shouting outside of the office and him thinking she was drunk. Now he wasn't so sure that her problem wasn't chemicals of a different kind. That aside, she was attractive, in a very young way, but even if she hadn't been pointing Derek's own gun at him, she would have done nothing for him. She wasn't his type.

"Where's Casey?" he asked ignoring her comment.

"Aw! How touching! The big bad cop cares about the skinny little ho."

"Where is she?" He hissed threateningly.

"You know, if I were you, I'd lose the attitude." The girl barked. "I'm holding all the cards here as well as the gun - and you, my dear friend are lucky to still be alive."

Derek peered up at her, certain that something about her was familiar.

She continued. "You know, I've heard so much about the great Mikey Essen. You're the crack shot, the muscle man with the brain. Apparently, you are supposed be the one that poses the biggest risk to us." She sniggered. "Some risk, batman. I don't even find you attractive."  
"The feeling's mutual. Where's Casey?" Derek persisted.  
"Oh enough already! The silly little bitch is there!" The girl jerked the gun off to one side in the gloom, and Derek realised that a corner which he had written off as empty actually had a small bundle in it; dirty, red, embroidered cloth.

It wasn't moving.

He felt sick. His headache and ankle might well be forgotten, but the thought of Casey mixed up in his shit was just wrong.

"Is she…okay?" he asked, unable to ask the more dramatic question.

The girl shrugged. "Define "okay"." She glanced down at the bundle dismissively. The gun remaining trained on Derek. "She's been running around bare foot in a tiny evening dress during a Canadian winter. I should imagine hypothermia is beginning to set in. But on the plus side, I think she's still alive…for now."

Derek jerked in frustration. Casey had mentioned the risk of hypothermia so casually earlier, he hadn't considered it to be a big risk, but now that he thought back to her face before everything went black, she had looked unusually pale, her skin turning grey.

"You need to get her help." He insisted. The girl giggled.

"That would be a wasted effort, seeing as neither of you is going to be leaving here alive anyway."

The sick feeling became overwhelming and he swallowed bile.  
"Who are you?" He demanded bitterly.

"You mean you don't recognise me?" She pouted. It was an expression that made her look about seven years old – and then the penny dropped. He had seen her before but only in a photograph; the pride-of-place, leather-framed picture sitting on a Mountie's desk.

"Fuck!" Derek exclaimed, his eyes widening. "You're Rich's daughter!" His brow furrowed as he tried to remember her name.

"My name is Holly." The girl said tetchily. "It's always the same with cops. You remember the hardened criminals, you can quote rap sheets and prison terms, but you can't remember each other's kids names, or the wives."  
Derek knew she had a point; a very sick and twisted point.

"Please." He said. "Casey isn't a cop. She's a doctor. Her role in life is to save lives. Let her go. Get her medical attention. Please."

Holly giggled. "Aw! Pleading for the life of his girlfriend. Anyone would think…" She broke off as a door somewhere behind her clanged.

A tall skinny man entered the room. He had a commanding presence, and without being told his name, Derek knew he was "Papillion". Behind him, short fat (and frankly ugly) was Richard: fifties, balding and as Spike's second-in-command, strictly speaking, Derek's boss.

Although, Derek was fairly sure he would be forgiven for ignoring any orders made by the traitor before him.

"Holly, my darling. What are you doing?" The voice was sickly sweet and deathly cold. Holly threw herself at the speaker, but it wasn't her father who had spoken or whose arms she stood in now. Papillion bent and demanded her mouth aggressively, kissing her hard and in a way that Derek was sure must have drawn blood. Then he stood back and smacked the young girl across the face with the back of his hand.

"That is for disobeying me." Papillion announced with an icy cool. Rich flinched and stepped forward. His paymaster turned and glared at him.

"She ignored my orders. She is lucky to be alive."

"I was bored." Holly complained as though she didn't care that her "lover" had just contemplated killing her over something so minor. Derek wondered briefly if it was that she didn't take him seriously or that she just didn't care. He saw the coldness of Papillion's eyes and decided only a fool wouldn't take this guy seriously.

"You wouldn't give me anymore pixie dust and a girl needs something to occupy her time." She pouted and rubbed her hand playfully on Papillion's chest.  
"The pixie dust can wait, Holly. I need to deal with your father's friends right now." He replied.

Derek, watching the scene from below noted that Rich was not comfortable with the situation. Derek had often thought Rich was a weak man in the past and here was his proof. He wasn't sure exactly what was transpiring, but it was fairly obvious that Holly was "dating" Papillion, a situation which had compromised her father to the point where he had turned traitor to the department. The phrase "Daddy's little girl" sprang to mind.

"Nice, Rich." Derek said bitterly. "I always knew you were a "yes" man but this…this is just…" His voice trailed away. "How does it feel knowing that you were responsible for Grubby's death and for putting Jazz in hospital?"

"Mikey I…" Rich looked upset.

Papillion stepped forward.

"This is the mouthy bastard who was going to cause us all the problems." He snorted.

"I never call…" Rich started. Papillion threw him a dirty look.

"Did I ask you to speak?" He demanded. Rich shook his head dejectedly. Papillion turned back to Derek. "Not such a hot shot now, are you?"

Derek shrugged. "I never said I was. I do my job…that's all."

"Oh I know. That's the whole point. Your department has been a fly in my ointment for too long. You've put a serious dent in my operations and I'm sick of it. So it's time to move - do something about it. I've been trying to figure out how to deal with the issue for a long time now and you, Mikey have given me exactly the way to do it."

He stepped forward and waved something in the air.

Derek saw it was a gun: His gun - the one that had been taken from him as he leant over Jazz's body. Bile rose from his stomach.

"You see it's dead man's boots in Department 15. And as of tonight, your boss is going to be exactly that – a dead man. And _you_," Papillion grinned coldly. "You are going to be the catalyst for making that happen. You are going to kill Spike, and then Rich here is going to catch you in the act…and _kill_ you in "self-defence". Spike is dead. You are dead. And in light of his unbelievable bravery and heroic endeavours – plus the fact he is already Spike's deputy, Rich will be promoted. And I will finally have neutralised Department 15."

Derek felt sick.

"I won't do it." He said stubbornly.

"Oh I know you won't. But your gun will and that's all I need. One of my guys will take out Spike with your gun. We'll have a little stage-managed confrontation between you and Rich followed quickly by your own death."

"And Casey?"  
"Ah yes. So beautiful, so loyal. She'd fight us tooth and nail for you. Of course she'll die too." It was the calm in his manner which was most frightening about Papillion. The guy was clearly what the dictionary writer meant when he coined the phrase "megalomaniac".

"No one would believe it." Derek said hollowly, but part of him wasn't so sure. People knew very little about him as a person, because of Derek's reticence about sharing personal information. People might not believe it to start with but as they began to think about him they would "realise" that they never really knew him. They might decide that his solitary existence meant he was capable of this level of brutality. Then a thought struck him.

"What about Jazz? He would know. He worked out who Holly was. He knows me."

Papillion shook his head. "He's still unconscious. And it could be arranged that he stays that way. The armed guard is only there as long as Spike orders it. A change of leadership and…"

It was sick, the easy way that the man before him talked about the death of so many people. By the time this little plan panned out there would be five people dead… and probably countless more that Derek didn't know about.

"I can see from your expression that you appreciate the brilliance of my plan." Papillion said. "And on that note, I will be leaving." He turned towards the door. "Holly?"

Rich's daughter smirked towards Derek and then followed her lover to the door.

"Rich. You know what to do. Wait until the word comes through that Spike is neutralised and then deal with these two. I'll be in touch. Holly will be in touch."

And with that Papillion walked out of the door with Holly at his side.

For a moment after he had gone, Derek and Rich stared at each other.

"Why?" Derek asked.

"She's my daughter." Rich explained. "She has…needs."  
"Needs!" Derek exclaimed.

"She has a heroin problem." Rich whispered. "And I…"  
"…And you, rather than take her dealer out decided to start working for him."  
"It's not like that." Rich protested.

"You're shitting me!"

"Mikey…"

"Rich, you could have stopped this; pulled the plug on his activities."

"She'd have died. He would have killed her."

"And you think that won't happen anyway?"

"Look asshole! You aren't here to make conversation with me." From somewhere, Rich discovered a backbone. "You need to sit in silence."

For a few moments, that was what they did. Then Derek sighed.

"Rich. I need to check Casey. Undo my cuffs. There's no way I'm getting out of this pit…what the hell is it by the way?"  
"It's a cistern. A concrete tank used for storing water. It hasn't been used in a while but it all still works. Papillion keeps it for getting rid of people whose bodies he doesn't want found. There's a sluice at the side which takes the water out into the Ottawa. He floods the chamber and then opens the sluice. The water carries the bodies all the way downstream. If it wasn't for the need for you to be accused of Spike's murder, I'm fairly sure you'd be going the same way."  
"So why didn't Grubby get the same fate?"  
"One of Papillion's henchmen got a bit enthusiastic. Believe me, the whole business was messy. In the end, Papillion decided to leave Grubby's body as a warning to you."  
"To me?"

"You're a legend, Mikey. Papillion fears you more than anyone else in the department."  
"Why?" Derek was surprised.

"There's nothing like an incorruptible cop with a brain to make the bad guys nervous. You aren't reckless like some of them, either. Reckless guys make mistakes. You're too calm and it scares the shit out of them."

"I got caught though."  
"Because of the girl. She was your Achilles Heel." He chuckled wryly. "Funny. We should have guessed that it would be something as simple as your dick that got you into trouble. I guess we never saw you with a girl so we never realised. If we had, we'd have set a honey trap sooner."  
Derek shook his head. "It wouldn't have worked." He glanced over ay his step-sister.

"I want you to undo my cuffs. I can't get out of here while you're pointing a gun at me anyway, but I need to know if she's okay."  
"Why? You know I can't let her live."  
"Yeah…why exactly? No one's ever taken Casey seriously so far so why would they now?"

Rich's eyes widened as he correctly interpreted Derek's dismissal of Casey. "You mean it's _her_ not just any piece of ass."

Derek didn't answer.

Rich looked sympathetic. "They wrap themselves around our hearts until they can't beat without them, don't they?"

"Give me the fucking key, Richard." Derek hissed.

He blinked as Richard tossed the tiny key towards the cistern but the anticipated "chink" as the key hit concrete never came. Instead, it was replaced by a loud gunshot somewhere outside.

The events that followed appeared chaotic to the untrained eye, but Derek knew better. After the first gunshot came many more, and then the lights went out. Derek rolled himself across the gap to Casey in the darkness and did his best to cover her body.

Time passed slowly, and blind and disabled, he could do nothing but wait for calm to descend once again.

* * *

**AN: Okay. I was going to post a long chapter, but the gap in the action here is large so I've split it. Final part coming in the next couple of days.**

**Educational Note: "Achilles Heel" (From Wikipedia)**

**An Achilles' heel is a deadly weakness in spite of overall strength that can actually or potentially lead to downfall. While the mythological origin refers to a physical vulnerability, metaphorical references to other attributes or qualities that can lead to downfall are common.**

**Greek mythology****, when ****Achilles**** was a baby, it was foretold that he would die in battle from an arrow in the foot. Naturally, his mother ****Thetis**** did not want Achilles to die. So she took Achilles to the ****River Styx**** which was supposed to offer powers of invincibility and dipped his body into the water. But as Thetis held Achilles by the heel, his heel was not washed over by the water of the magical river. Achilles grew up to be a man of war who survived many great battles. But one day, an arrow shot at him was lodged in his heel, killing him instantly. Yet Achilles is remembered as one of the greatest fighters who ever lived.**


	32. The Beginning

Her hand was warm in his own: small, delicate and soft. He pictured her placing it gently on a child's forehead more as a sign of comfort than as a diagnostic tool for her profession. Right now, however, the hand in his was limp of course, but the warmth was reassuring.

As was the steady beep which resonated through the room.

Earlier, when his own hand supported his head at the temple and the fingers of his other hand stroked her face, he was surprised to feel that his pulse matched the beeping, as if their hearts beat in time with each other. He wondered how that was possible when her heart had the restful beat of sleep and his own had raced frantically just a few moments before he entered the room – before he saw her living. He considered what had calmed him to such an extent and then chuckled at himself when he realised he had answered his own question.

Casey was sleeping, her newly-cleaned hair fanning across the crisp cotton of the hospital pillow, her still-pale skin peeking out from the hospital issue gown. He wondered if she would be upset that they had cut her dress from her so that they could assess her injuries. She had loved that dress. And then he remembered that she had ripped it first as part of her plan to warn him they were in danger. He took a moment, thinking about Casey and the dance pole, and smiled. She never failed to surprise him.

They had cut his clothes from his body too; keen not to disturb his (broken) ankle and the large gash in the back of his head. He had been washed and his cuts dressed. Derek had objected to the hospital gown, so they had provided him with scrubs to wear (probably relieved that he wouldn't be prowling the hospital corridors with his ass hanging out).

He _had_ prowled though – even in the scrubs. He had left his own room hobbling on his crutches against the advice of the medical staff, desperate to find Casey.

When he had got under everyone's feet enough, they eventually took pity on him and put him in the two-bed room with Casey. He'd been co-operative since then desperate that he kept this new position.

It was night time again and he found it difficult to believe that the events of the previous evening had really happened; how close he had come to losing her. He lifted her fingers to his mouth and pressed a kiss against their tips.

"You're only doing that because we're alone." Her voice murmured quietly, even though her eyes remained shut.

"Hell yes! I do have a hard man rep to maintain." Derek said, failing to keep the relief from his own words. She not only lived, she conversed. Or more importantly for them, she fought. He lowered their hands to the bed again. Casey smiled and opened her eyes as he laced their fingers together. Her brow furrowed when she saw the bruises to his face.

"Where are we?" She couldn't ask about his injuries, not yet. Not until she knew they were safe.

"You mean you can't guess?"

"Pale walls, pitifully few pictures, and a weird smell? I'd say we were in your apartment but there's too much furniture for that."  
Derek grinned as her wit shone again. "We're in the hospital. You got a tiny knock to the head and exposure to the cold. I got brained with a monkey wrench and it turns out you were wrong about my ankle. Yet you're the one in the hospital bed. Someone up there loves you." _And someone down here._

"It's broken?" Casey pulled herself up and switched into doctor mode.

"Yup." He smirked at her, knowing that she had thought it merely sprained when she examined it before…on the roof, in the dark, her fingers so frozen she couldn't feel them.

"I did say I'd need to confirm it with an x-ray." Casey retorted.

"Yeah well. They beat you to it. The x-ray says it's sprained _and_ broken."

Casey nodded her understanding and changed the subject. "How long have I been out?"

Derek grimaced at the remembrance. "Almost twenty four hours."

"With simple exposure?" There was an element of incredulity in her voice.

"Guess the warmth of my personality stopped you from getting full hypothermia; that and all the running. Shame, I was looking forward to the 'Paradoxical Undressing'." He waggled his eyebrows at her. Casey looked confused, ignoring his surprising knowledge about the symptoms of the more serious medical condition.

"But I don't understand why I was unconscious."

Derek took a deep breath and softly told her the truth. "They drugged you, honey. Knocked me out with a chunk of metal but were more subtle with you." He swallowed. "For a while we weren't sure why…or if…" Deep breath. "We didn't know what you'd been through. They drugged you as soon as they caught us so there were several hours where you and I were apart or at least where neither of us was conscious." He meant they had worried at first that the drugging was to make her compliant with something sexual. Casey wasn't stupid and he saw the look of panic build in her eyes as she worked out the possibilities.

"They've checked you, love. No one has touched you." He reassured her.

Casey's body relaxed and she was silent for a moment. "Wait! How come we're alive? We got caught. What happened?"

Derek gave her a brief rundown of how he had woken up in the cistern, Holly's words and the discovery of who the leak in the department was.

"So he did it because he thought it was helping his daughter? Why didn't he tell Spike and get her pulled out of there?"  
"I asked him that, he said by the time he realised the path he was heading on he was already guilty of several major crimes. Telling Spike would have led to him being arrested and then he wouldn't be able to help Holly at all."

Derek's thumb was brushing against the back of her hand as he continued the tale. It was a gentle comforting gesture and Casey found herself squeezing his hand in return.

"Gunshots?" She gasped as he got to that point in the story. "What happened next?"

Derek shrugged. "Spike arrived with half of the department."  
"They found us? But how?"

"Ah yes! Well apparently your plan worked." Derek said.

Casey eyes widened and she smiled broadly. "It did? Marti…?"

He nodded. "When you didn't call in as arranged, Marti phoned Spike and created merry hell. How did you get his number, by the way?"

Casey shrugged. "You left your phone lying around."

"It's password-protected."  
"Yes I know. But "Klutzilla123" didn't take a lot of working out." Casey said rolling her eyes. Derek laughed.

"Anyway, Marti phoned Spike. Apparently, she announced that she wanted to report a missing person and he was just about to transfer her to another department when she told him that the missing person's name was 'Derek Venturi'. She rambled to him this complicated story about her doctor sister and GPS technology. Eventually he stopped trying to get rid of her and started to listen."  
"It was something I read…about cell phones and their GPS chips. I knew that in some instances people could be traced to their phones. Did they locate yours?"  
Derek shook his head. "No. I had my cell restricted. I don't want anyone to be able to find me unless I mean for it to happen. Instead they traced yours. It was still in your purse which was in an office on the floor above the cistern. Spike broke into the office and when they didn't find us there, they took the place apart looking for us." Derek grinned. "Remind me never to run from you."

Casey returned the grin and the smile went right to her eyes. "So Marti is…?"

"Still in London…for now."

Casey pulled a face.

"I know she wants to see me, but I need to think about it, Case. There's too much at stake. I don't want her hurt."  
His step-sister sighed. "She's hurting anyway, D. She misses you. We all do."  
"Yeah well. Seems I can't escape _you_ at least."

"For now." Casey admitted ruefully. "Given half a chance…"

Derek shook his head. "It's different now." He acknowledged. "The hardest things about _this _me you know." He sighed. "It won't stop me trying to keep you safe, and I may still have to go away, but I'm never going to leave it so that you don't know exactly where I am from now on."  
Casey lifted his hand to her own lips. "Good. I'll hold you to that." She promised.

* * *

"How is she?" Spike asked as he set foot in their hospital room the following day. Casey was in the shower, and as any female who had been deprived of such a luxury would attest, she was going to be a while.

"She's fine." Derek answered. "Pretty much normal Casey."

"That was ballsy of her: getting up and dancing like that, running away the way she did, putting a contingency plan in place."

"I know. I know. I've dragged her through shit these past couple of days."  
"Hardly your fault, Derek."

He shrugged. "If I hadn't got homesick, she'd be blissfully unaware at home in London, enjoying the high life of a successful doctor. Not getting drugged and almost killed by a guy who enjoys perversions the way Papillion does."

Spike sat down on a soft chair nearby. "You two haven't talked much about the last few years, have you."  
"We've talked enough."

"That I doubt." Spike muttered.

"What?" Derek asked, irritated by Spike's unforthcoming nature.

"Casey took your death hard, Derek. She made some bad personal decisions."

Derek frowned, trying to work out what Spike was on about, and then it came to him.

"You mean the drinking?"  
Spike looked surprised. "She told you?"

"With Casey and me, all it takes is an argument and then everything crawls out of the woodwork. If ever you want to know a secret, you pick a fight. She soon spills."

"It was serious, Derek."

"I know. But I also know Casey. She makes mistakes but she also learns from them – and a lot quicker than most people. She maybe many things but she's not lacking in common sense. Besides," Derek said with a soft smile. "She seems okay now."  
"Because she found you again." Spike answered. "Be careful Derek. If you push her away now it could have devastating consequences."

Derek shook his head. "I know - for me too." He said softly. "I've already promised her I won't do that. Of course, at some point I'll piss her off and she'll walk away from me. Or some Harvard–educated surgeon will whisk her off her feet."

Spike watched his protégé with interest. Derek was bright in ways that didn't even register on the academic scale. He knew things about life and people that other more educated people _never_ worked out. But he seemed curiously dim-witted when it came to his own personal life. Spike brushed that aside.

"I came to ask you something." He said, breaking himself from his own thoughts as much as intruding on Derek's.

"I'm listening." Derek answered cautiously.

Spike grinned. "Non-committal much." He commented.

Derek arched an eyebrow and Spike chuckled.

"Look. With Rich's…defection, I need a wingman and I'll be honest, you're the only fucker I trust."

"Wingman?"

"A new second-in-command."

"Promotion? Bit of a poison chalice, isn't it?"

Spike shrugged. "I didn't say I came with _good_ news." He grinned and then paused. "I mean it Derek. There aren't many people I trust in our department. I want that to change which means I need someone to help me yank out the bindweed."

"Would I get carte blanche?"

"I guess. Within reason."  
"Then it isn't _carte blanche_ you asshole."

Spike laughed. "Okay. You get it."

"Good. And we'll do it my way?"  
"Who are you? Frank Sinatra?"

"Nah! My crooning breaks windows."

They both laughed and then Spike stood up.

"I should go before Casey gets back. She probably wouldn't appreciate me seeing her in her shower cap."  
Derek chuckled. "You saved her life – our lives - don't be surprised if you get an invitation to dinner real soon."

"Domestic bliss, D? My wife would like that."

"Hey, this is Casey we're talking about. But, I'm not one to turn down a free meal."

Spike nodded his agreement. "Is she a good cook?"

"She used to be."

"Look. You're owed a ridiculous amount of leave. Take a couple of weeks off, show Casey the sights."

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"I meant the tourist sights, you moron, but whatever floats your boat."

"If I tried to show her any other kind of sight she'd fillet it and feed it to me in taco shells with guacamole."

Spike reached the door. "I wouldn't be so sure. Regardless, I think the coming months are going to be very interesting for you, Venturi. Very interesting indeed." With that pronouncement, and a rather obvious smirk, Spike was gone.

Shortly afterwards, Casey returned.

"Was that Spike I saw?" She asked, still towelling her hair. "What did he want?"

"He wanted me to try Tex Mex for a change." Derek answered cryptically. "Oh. And he promoted me."

* * *

"Casey!" Derek hollered through his apartment several days later. "We need to talk!"

Casey who was currently in the living room dusting looked up in surprise.

"About what?" She asked.

"There's a guy at the door with a sofa, two chairs and a footstool. He says you know something about them."

"Really?" Casey exclaimed, standing up. "But they're early. The suite wasn't supposed to arrive until next week. I was expecting the spare room closet today." She pushed her way passed him and headed for the front door. Derek stared after her in disbelief.

Seconds later, two burly removal men backed the large leather couch, which he had only vague recollections of sanctioning, into the room.

"Did I authorise this?" Derek asked Casey as she directed the placement of the said couch.

"Yes." She confirmed reminding him of their previous conversation and the laptop.

Derek frowned.

"How much is this costing me?"

"Enough." She shrugged.

"Enough?"

"Enough that we'll have something to argue about for a long time to come." She smiled sweetly.

"As I recall," Derek leaned up against the door frame and folded his arms. "You and I finding something to argue about was never a problem."

"Relax Derek." She ordered. "In fact, take a load off and relax on your _new_ sofa!" She beamed cheerfully at him.

"When are you leaving again?" He teased.

"I've got two weeks more vacation time; plenty of time to do more damage." She promised.

"Maybe I should just password-protect my laptop."

"Pur-lease! How many passwords of yours have I cracked in the last two weeks?"

"It was a thought."

Casey looked uncertain as she seriously considered whether he was happy with her actions. "I thought you agreed that you needed furniture – that you needed a home…"

_It doesn't take furniture to make this a home, honey. It takes you._ Derek thought to himself.

He relented. "If I let you do this, will you lay off about my bad habits?"  
Casey considered it. "Okay…Except the underwear on the bedroom floor."

He threw her a look. Casey groaned.

"I should have ordered a bed for the spare room." She commented. Derek didn't like the thought of her sleeping in another room.

"Oh no! No more furniture orders. You've depleted my bank account enough for one visit, McDonald."

"Then pick up after you Derek and I won't need to buy another bed."

He made a mental note to do just that.

A couple of hours later and they were both sprawled on the new furniture. The new large television in the corner of the living room was showing a re-run of the 'Brady Bunch' and Casey was reading a gossip magazine, her legs stretched in front of her. Derek, ankle elevated in his new recliner, watched her rather than the sitcom on the screen. Two more weeks and then Casey would be gone again, albeit temporarily this time. She was talking about coming up for a weekend next month, (probably to supervise the arrival of the deck furniture for the balcony). He wondered how he was going to get through a month of solitary evenings when he had been so used to sharing his space with her; his space and (innocently) his bed.

Correction: _their_ space; _their_ bed.

Derek knew he should be grateful. She was in his life again, even if she was going to be far away in London most of the time. Casey would leave her mark in his apartment – in the furniture, in the scent of the polish she used, in the choice of the bed linen on the bed. He was going to miss her and it was going to hurt. He tried to reassure himself that it was temporary, but he worried that as easily as she had come back into his life something would take her away again, and that this time it might be permanent.

"Hey! Gossip girl!" He called across the living room and chucked a cushion at her head. Casey looked up in annoyance.

"What?"  
"You wanna go get some dinner? My treat? My stomach thinks my throat has been cut."

"Would this be "dinner" as in McDonald's Drive Thru, or "dinner" as in nutritional fare, lovingly prepared, cooked, and served in a decent restaurant?"

"I was thinking "Starvin' Marvin's Tex Mex Grill" actually."

Casey narrowed her eyes. "Do they do salad?"

Derek shivered. "I think I saw some green stuff there once, yeah. If not you'll have to make do with taco shells and guacamole." He grinned to himself as he recalled his conversation with Spike. "What'd'ya say?"

"I guess I might be persuaded. Are you sure you can manage to hobble your way there?"

* * *

Casey looked around Derek's bedroom as she changed for the trip to the restaurant; except it was hard to think of anything in this apartment as just Derek's anymore. When she had entered the space for the first time it was cold and unwelcoming, but she could see it had potential.

Rather like Derek.

He had been distant from her when they reunited, as though he wasn't going to let himself get too close to her. She had constantly felt as though he was hiding something from her.

Now, just like the room it was different. Now he was like the Derek she had known…except…even that wasn't true. They hadn't been this close before. And now she knew what it felt like to kiss him.

Casey sat down heavily on the bed as that thought crossed her mind. Kissing Derek was…as easy as breathing, in fact, it was so natural it felt as necessary as breathing.

Which was not good. Not good at all.

Derek was a Will 'o' the Wisp. He settled to nothing, he committed to nothing. And Casey was his complete opposite. It could not work, particularly as she was leaving for London in a couple of weeks. Soon she would be out of sight and out of mind, and any progress made would regress. He would forget her and move on; which was heart-rending, but when she considered how she would explain all of this to the rest of their family…it seemed kind of necessary.

Painfully necessary.

"Are you okay in there?" A voice called through the bedroom door. "Only I'm eating my arm off out here."

Casey lied in response "I'm fine, I'll be out…"

But she was cut off by the sound of her cell phone ringing.

"Casey McDonald." She answered it, professional as always – (unless it was Derek on the other end).

"Oh…Hi Robin!"

She smiled softly as he spoke. Robin, the Head of Trauma at the Ottawa hospital she had just been discharged from – the same Head of Trauma she had interviewed with days prior to that.

"Yes I'm feeling much better thank you. It was lovely of you to call to check…Oh! I'm sorry, I have plans tonight…Yes. Derek's taking me to "Starvin' Marvin's" his treat…No! You have to understand, Derek forking out cash in any kind of restaurant is a big deal. Clearly guilt over the whole "bad guy" thing has got to him…Oh…[blushing]…Well, thank you, I'm flattered you think I deserve better…yes I know there are some lovely five star restaurants in Ottawa…yes I'm sure that would be lovely at some po…_tomorrow?_...Erm…_evening dress_? Well I might need to…Yes…no…of course it would be lovely…seven o'clock…Yes…I can text you my address…"

Outside of the room, Derek closed his eyes and groaned. _Here we go again._

* * *

Across the other side of the city, Spike looked at the report in his hand.

"Are we sure it's them?" he asked his subordinate. The younger man nodded.

"Fingerprints are confirmed, but she also had a tattoo on the small of her back."

"Tattoo?" Spike queried.

"A small butterfly."

Spike groaned. "And him?"

"Difficult to tell with the bloating, but yeah…we're pretty confident. The body even had a gunshot wound to the right shoulder where Graham's bullet grazed him."

"Fuck! Do we know who did this? Was anyone pissed at Papillion?"

"You mean apart from Mikey? Jazz?"

"They are both out of action."

The junior scratched his head. "We have no proof not yet. And that's the weirdest thing. You see the guy left a calling card."

"Calling card?"  
"Yeah. The girl was strangled with a particular scarf. I ran it through the system and the file is sealed."

Spike's eyes widened. "Sealed? As in classified?"  
"Yeah. That's why I'm here. It's an old case, but the reference number and contact details belong to you."

A small degree of panic crossed Spike's chest almost stopping his heart. "Me? It wasn't a Queen's scarf by any chance?"

A file landed on the desk in front of him with a paper thud.

Spike didn't look at the file in detail, just the reference number on the front page. He didn't even look very carefully, just glanced. The panic bubbled to the surface, but with a practiced ease, he coolly opened the file and then closed it.

"Fine." He told the junior. "I'll get around to looking at it in the morning seeing as we can't achieve anything tonight. Good work on that."  
And with a few kind words, he dismissed the guy in front of him.

An hour later, Spike was still staring at the file.

After seven years, there was activity again. He wasn't sure what it meant, but none of it could be good for him…or for Derek Venturi.

The Beginning.

* * *

**An: And so endeth the first part. The next installment "Another Legacy" will commence in a day or so. (School hols from fri so more writing time.)**

**Thank you for reading this. The follow-up will definitely be a Dasey...unhappy people will be appeased.**


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